Narratives
by SkittlezLvr79
Summary: Random One Shots, Series or Drabbles focusing on the members of the Shield.
1. Heads Up

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything you recognize. They belong to themselves and the characters belong to Vinny Mac.**

 **Summary: Random Drabbles/One-shots. Might interlink, might not. Haven't really decided.**

 **Author's Note: Basically, I'm a little blocked so trying to work on other things to get the creative juices flowing.**

* * *

 _April 4, 2011 8:30am_

Seth had just finished showering after his run. He was running the towel over his wet hair when his phone rang. Figuring it was probably one of the agents with match information for him, he quickly dropped his towel and answered. "Hello?"

"Hey man, how goes it?" The voice of his former team mate, Jimmy Jacobs unexpectedly question.

"Not bad, how about you?"

The other man heaved a sigh, "Well I heard something and figured I should call and give you a heads up."

A frown crossed his face. He'd known Jimmy long enough to know that if the man was calling him about something, it had to be important. "Shoot."

"I was talking to Drake and he told me that WWE just signed Jon Moxley."

The frowned deepened. Jon Moxley? He knew that name only because it was well known on the Indy circuit but he didn't personally know the man. They had somehow never crossed paths in their careers. Probably because the guy had a history of competing in the most violent matches you could think of.

So why would the company hire Moxley?

"Hello, you still there?"

He gave himself a shake from his thoughts. "Sorry, just trying to figure out why they'd sign him considering they're PG. No blood, gore or anything death-match related to be had."

"Listen, I ain't the cocky little prick's biggest fan but he actually does know how to wrestle. Always did. He just had a hell'of'a match with Danielson not long ago. From what I can figure, kid's just a pain freak and those matches were for kicks." Jimmy huffed, "I just figured you needed to know."

"Why would I need to know?" Seth was genuinely confused.

"Cause Mox is gonna want to come in with a bang. That means he'll be gunning for you."

He digested that, "Well thanks man. I appreciate the warning."

They talked for a few more minutes then Seth made an excuse to hang up. He didn't like being caught unprepared. That meant that he had to do some homework on the company's newest superstar. Grabbing his laptop, he booted it up and placed it on his coffee table. He sat down on the couch and pulled up You tube. Typing Jon Moxley into the search bar, he was surprised by the numerous videos that popped up.

An hour later, he had enough. Shutting the browser down and shoving the computer out of reaching distance. His eyes were wide, heart beating heavily from what he witnessed. Moxley was either a brilliant actor or he really was out of his mind. Although something deep down told him that it might have been a combination of both.

The matches were brutal, gruesome and very disturbing. But the promo's outdid them all. There was just something about the way the guy talked, swinging between calm and anger in the blink of an eye that made them truly terrifying. It was as if he was listening to the real life version of the Joker. Someone who embraced the twisted, darkness inside themselves and had no issue unleashing it on anyone in their way.

Seth really hoped that Jimmy was wrong and that Moxley would want to come in quietly. But deep down he knew better than that. You didn't put yourself through the hell that this guy had to finally make it to the big time and decide that you wanted to fly under the radar. Whenever he arrived at FCW, he was going to come after him and not stop.


	2. Fallout

**Author's Note: Just a little something that came to mind after watching Fastlane last night. I must be missing Seth since the last two things I've written have been his pov.**

* * *

 _Feb 22, 2016_

Seth sat in front of his TV, replaying the carnage from last night's PPV. A shudder went through him every time he got to the part where Dean hit Roman with the chair. While it wasn't surprising that Dean had used the chair against Brock, it was surprising that the lunatic's rage was unleashed on his brother with the same object that had been used to stab them both in the back. Maybe it was just a heat of battle thing. Dean getting caught up in the moment and not thinking about the past.

But he doubted it.

Because he knew Dean better than most people.

They'd been friends for a long time. While he always said that championships really meant nothing to him and that kicking ass, busting heads and chasing skirts meant more to him, it was lie. He'd seen that firsthand when the other man had won the US championship when they were in the Shield together. The way Dean walked when he had a title, head up and shoulders back instead of his usual lazy slouch said otherwise. And the fact that the lunatic spent an insane amount of time polishing the plates of his championships screamed pride in being recognized as one of the best in the business.

Until it was ripped away from him in a match where he never had a chance to win because the authority no longer wanted him to. He'd gotten a little more unpredictable, a little darker in his thought process after that. Not really caring about anything until they were in the ring. Then the switch flipped and he'd wanted to hurt someone. It was almost scary how quickly he could snap from quiet and introspective to raving madman during the final few months of the Shield.

Seth's betrayal had broken the chains of self-restraint. Unleashed the lunatic that Dean had been fighting so hard to keep in check. The idea of destroying him, of ripping him apart had consumed the older man. Kept him from dealing with whatever emotional damage the attack had done. Until they were in the ring and then the emotions spilled forth, in every word, punch, kick and pin-fall.

Dean lost the battle. Bray Wyatt had made sure of that. He cost the former US champ his victory at hell in cell and taken delight in revealing the man's deepest, darkest secrets to the world. It had damn near driven his former teammate over the edge. Almost bringing him back to the sadistic mindset he had back in his Indy days where he was more concerned with doing as much damage as he could than winning.

But in the end, Bray walked away from that feud as the victor.

Sure Dean set his sights on another championship belt and pursued it with the tenacity of a pit bull but it almost felt hollow. Like he'd resigned himself to going after the consolation prize because his once unflappable confidence in himself was shaken. And it seemed like he didn't take it that hard when he came up empty again. But he obviously did. Because once Seth was the champ and again found himself in Dean's crosshairs, it was a vicious continuance of their battle the previous year.

Coming so close to winning the biggest prize in the game but having it consistently slip between your fingers had affected him even more. He'd seen it himself at Money in the Bank. A desolate Dean just sitting on the canvas, his face showing his emotions and then there was that speech. His very own Hard Times moment. Seth hadn't known that was coming until he was already back stage and the sound of his former business associate's voice caught his attention.

He'd always wondered why Dean had seemed to give up the chase after that match. Not that Seth hadn't been relieved to get a reprieve from the brutal battle with the lunatic. It was just kind of out of character for the other man to just shrug it off and go on to something else. When that plan failed, he started to flounder. Falling into the role of Roman's sidekick all too easily. Being more focused on their brotherhood and going to war with the reunited Wyatt family rather than obtaining the goal he set when he first walked through the doors at FCW.

It wasn't until Seth got injured and they had the tournament to crown a new champ did he see any of that desire return to his former teammate. Dean's focus and drive had ramped up, single minded determination to finally capture what had eluded him. He went through that tournament with his mind. Body and soul working as one toward the much coveted desire of becoming the WWE champion. He put everything he had into it…

Roman winning crushed that dream once again.

Finally winning the IC title had probably helped that wound scab over some. He fought hard to get that title and even harder to keep it. That last man standing had been brutal but incredible. Showcasing exactly how far Dean would go to keep what he believed was his. But being screwed out of a championship again by the authority would have ripped it wide open once more.

He'd shrugged it off. Gone to great lengths to prove that he wasn't afraid of Brock Lesnar and that he had no problem getting into with his only remaining brother. Focused on the chance to become the number one contender. To have the chance to go on to main event Wrestlemania and exact some revenge against the man who stood for everything that had gone wrong in Dean's life side that fateful year of 2014. Even though he fought like hell and did his best, even resorting to beating both his opponents with an object that held so much history, he still lost.

Once again Roman winning had taken away the only thing he had to keep him going.

And that's what scared Seth. Because a Dean who felt there was nothing left was a very dangerous Dean Ambrose. A more unpredictable, violent lunatic than usual. Someone who would go to any extreme to get what he wanted, what he felt he deserved. No matter who he had to hurt to get there.

Picking up his cell-phone, he scrolled through his contacts until he found a number he hadn't called in almost two years. Pressed call and held his breath. Hoping that the other person wouldn't take one look at the screen and ignore the call. It rang three times then went to voicemail.

"Hey, it's Seth. Listen Roman, I know you probably don't want to hear from me and I don't blame you for that but I really felt like I needed to tell you to be careful. Dean's about to snap Rome and it's not going to be pretty. I got a feeling that he's gonna paint his target on your back. So just keep an eye out man."

He hung up and sighed. Before he was injured, he wouldn't have made that call. All he would have done was sit back and watch the inevitable fallout. But being on the sidelines, having time to reflect on the mistakes he'd made in his own quest to the top, he didn't want to see it happen. Because like it or not, he still cared about them and hoped that someday the three of them would be on the same side again.

He once again scrolled through his phone and found another rarely used contact. Hopefully, he hadn't changed his number. Pressing the phone icon, he hoped he'd get the actual person this time and not voicemail. It didn't ring long before the sound of a mocking, gravelly chuckled "nope" breezed into his ear and he was abruptly hung up on. He tried again but a computerized voice informed him that the number he was trying to reach was not accepting calls from this number.

Seth stared at his phone with a frown. Dean hadn't changed his number or blocked him after he had stabbed him in the back. But the second he tried to reach out to the man because he could see where the current situation was headed, he was no longer allowed contact. That said more than any conversation between the two of them would have. He could do nothing more than sit back and watch Dean self-destruct and take the last remaining good situation down with him.


	3. Attack

**Summary: Inspired by the events of today. Ties into Fallout.**

* * *

 _Feb 22, 2016_

Dean was sitting in his hotel room, plotting what came next. He'd lost when it really mattered, something that was becoming an unfortunate pattern for him. Roman had pinned him once again just like he had at Survivor Series. This time, it cost him the chance to go onto Wrestlemania, face Triple H in the main event and break that jackass's giant nose before taking that belt away from the smug bastard. To give him a little taste of the payback that he so richly deserved for everything he had done to them since the day they decided to stop being puppets for the authority.

Yeah, he got that Roman had a right to also want revenge. And he could understand why his brother wanted it so badly. He had gotten screwed outta the title. Not once but twice. He'd fought his way to the top of the mountain only to be shoved off…

But so hadn't Dean, even more than his so called brother.

He'd been screwed out of the US Title, Money in the Bank briefcase, the WWE Championship and the IC title. Hell he had been screwed so many times that it was starting to feel like he should just change his name to Screwed Overbrose. So he was going to have to do something to show them that he wasn't going to take it anymore. Something drastic, brutal and that would leave everyone questioning his sanity even more. Like finally doing what was best for him and spilling the blood of anyone who got in his way.

Even if it belonged to the only person who stood by him.

Triple H and Roman would undoubtedly be having a get together tonight. A little back and forth to wet the appetites of the fans. All he had to do was hit the ring when they were distracted and take them both out with whatever he could get his hands on. Show them exactly who he was at his rotted core and make them realize that they had made a mistake by underestimating how far he was willing to go. Didn't realize how much finally getting to the top of the company meant to him or that it would prove to him that he was more than just the lunatic everyone thought he was.

It was time to stop holding back. To embrace the darkness inside himself that he'd fought so hard to contain. Now was the time to do what he should have done a long time ago, unleash Moxley on the WWE. End the era of PG in a bloodbath the likes of which hadn't been seen since the glory days of hardcore wrestling. Tonight was just the start of the end of the WWE as fans knew it.

That line of thought continued to run through his head all day, especially as the car drew closer to the arena. The only thing that pulled him from his dark, disturbing thoughts was the chime of his cell-phone. He pulled it from his pocket, expecting it to be Roman wanting to talk things over before the show tonight. But it wasn't the Samoan calling him. It was someone he hadn't been anticipating ever trying to get in contact with him again.

Yet, he wasn't really surprised that Seth's number was flashing on his screen. The traitorous asshole knew him really well. He laughed, a mocking sound and answered with a chilly "nope" before ending the brief call. Today was not a day that he was willing to sit through an interrogation by someone who had not only taken such great pleasure in stabbing him the back but also helped screw him over numerous times. Not when he was about to do something that made what that bastard had done to them a year and a half ago look like child's play.

He blocked the number without hesitation. There was no reason for him to ever hear from the sell out again. In fact once he dealt with the Roman and Triple H situation, he could just bide his time and wait for the injured man to return to the WWE. Then he could take out the two-toned prick once and for all. There would be something profoundly satisfying in being the one who ended Rollins career once and for all.

Dean shook off his musing as the car pulled into the arena parking garage. He got out of the car, holding out a fist in acknowledgement of the fans chanting his name. This was probably the last time he'd hear that. Once he did what he was going to do, they'd hate him just like the fans on the Indy circuit used to. So he'd enjoy that last moment of being the good guy for all it was worth.

One minute he was walking and the next he was being rammed back into the car he just vacated. Knees hit his sore ribs and heavy blows rained down on him. He tried in vain but couldn't fight back. Then he was hoisted up and slammed down onto another car. Before the sting of his back hitting the hood even registered, he was airborne and smashed into the window shield, his head connecting soundly with the glass as his feet smashed into the other side.

Obviously Brock Lesnar was satisfied that this attack would be the end of him. Because he just walked away. Everything went fuzzy for a little bit but he knew one thing, the so called Beast had just forced him to change his plan of attack. He'd just landed himself on the top of Dean's shit-list which was not a place someone should ever want to be. Once he got his hands on him, he'd torture the big bastard.

He relished the idea of breaking out his treasured fork and jamming it repeatedly into the fleshy face of the conqueror.

By the time he was loaded onto the stretcher, the cobwebs had cleared but the paramedics were refusing to release him. Bastards, they were just delaying the inevitable. They forced him to go to the hospital. There, the doctors forced him into a litany of tests, wanting to make sure that there was nothing seriously wrong with him. Too late for that because he'd been born like this and nothing they would do could fix it.

He claimed he had to use the bathroom and slipped out of the hospital. His original brilliant idea had been to hitchhike back to the arena, after all the fans loved him and would definitely give him a lift. But once he noticed that the exit he had used for his escape was the one that lead to the ambulance bay, a smile crossed his lips. There was no one around and even in his fucked up condition he was well versed in the art of stealing cars. It took him slightly longer than it usually would but he managed to get into the ugly yellow ambulance and fire it up.

The drive back was agony. If he was honest with himself, which he very seldom was when he was injured, his head was killing. Not to mention that his vision was slightly blurry. His legs hurt, the contact they made with the windshield robbing them of their strength. Every breath that he sucked in burned painfully through his chest and his ribs.

But there was no time to dwell on that shit right now.

He had to get back to the arena and make sure that Brock and Heyman knew that he was every bit as crazy as they said. That thinking a sneak attack could destroy him was faulty logic. He may go down but he didn't stay down. There was a sick thrill that shot through him every time he had to pull his bruised, broken body up after someone put a beating on him. He'd endured some of the most brutal, violent, gruesome matches ever held so Brock's much hyped Suplex City was nothing to him.


	4. Brother

**_Summary: Ties into Fallout and Attack._**

* * *

 _Feb 22, 2016_

Roman frowned as he once again listened to the voicemail. When he saw that he had a missed call from Seth, he had been shocked to say the least. Even more surprised that the back-stabbing weasel left a message. But the shock had been eclipsed by anger as he heard what the other man had to say to him after all this time. Not an apology or a long overdue explanation of why he betrayed them but a warning against Dean.

He barked a bitter sounding laugh, wondering why he was even wasting a minute on this. Seth was obviously trying to stir the pot on the orders of Triple H. Figured taking the belt from him wasn't enough. Wanted to destroy his relationship with his best friend, his brother by choice and leave him with nothing. It wouldn't work. No matter how many weak ass warnings Hunter had Seth give him there was no way he would ever believe that Dean would go down the same road that weasel faced sellout did.

Of course he was also ignoring the voice that had sprung up in his mind a couple of weeks ago that said the same thing. There was no truth to it. It didn't matter if they'd had a few miscommunications, a couple of times where their tempers had gotten the better of them in the ring. They were both strong, passionate people so of course there'd be times when they butted heads. It was only natural to get in your opponents mind, to say or do things in the heat of the moment that you really didn't mean.

But Fastlane was over now and everything would go back to normal. Things between them would be fine and any issues had been left in the ring. Though if that was true, why had Dean left the arena before Roman got to the back last night? Why hadn't he called him this morning like usual to head to the gym then grab some breakfast like they always did? How come he hadn't picked up any of the times Roman had tried to call him?

He shook off those thoughts, refusing to give into the paranoia that Seth's call and that damn voice were trying to build. Dean was Dean. The eccentricities displayed on TV were all real. He took losing hard and tended to rip himself apart if he felt that he had a bad match. When he got like that, he did tend to ignore everyone around him and drift off into his own little dark world for a bit.

Roman never wanted to know how dark that world could get. Yeah, he loved Dean like a little brother. He completely enjoyed their friendship, reveled in the fun times and liked having someone in his life who'd just let him vent when his frustrations boiled over, someone who treated him as an equal even though his career was far shorter. But he'd learned a long time ago that there was a side of his best friend that he never wanted to know. That dark, twisted side that he would sometimes slip into.

It wasn't often that it happened. Despite everything that Dean had endured in his life, he was surprisingly happy and as well adjusted as he could manage to be. But he had a tendency toward self-loathing and moments where he'd let the pressure or criticism get to him. That was when he got tired of trying to be more. When he just gave into the ease of being the lunatic.

But this wouldn't be one of those times. It wasn't like Dean wouldn't get another shot at the title. The guy was crazy talented and dedicated to wrestling. Fans loved him, hung on every word and move the guy made in the ring. He'd be the WWE champ some day, it was only a matter of time before the company would reward him for his hard work.

Hell if Roman won the title at Wrestlemania, he'd offer his brother a shot at it. A fair shot, one on one. May the best man win. Something that their sellout former brother never gave him. If Dean beat him then he'd be more than happy for him, be as proud as a big brother should be.

His phone chimed, his eyes sliding toward it. The hope that it was Dean was dashed when he saw a picture of the twins on his screen. He took a deep breath and answered. "Hey uce, what's up?"

"Yo cuz, Brock attacked Dean in the parking lot a few minutes ago," Jey let out a low whistle. "It was bad man. He got put into a windshield and had to leave in an ambulance."

"Shit," Roman closed his eyes. He'd told his little brother not to go around provoking the beast but did he ever listen to him? "Was he conscious?"

There was a laugh, "Little uce was pissed. Tried to say he didn't need to go but the paramedics didn't listen. Strapped him to a board, ignored his cursing, flailing hands and drove away."

He let out a relieved breath. Good, Dean hadn't managed to smooth talk his way out of going. They made sure that he couldn't get away. "Thanks, I'm going to call the hospital and try to get an update on him."

Hanging up from Jey, he dialed information to get the number to the hospital closest to the arena. Roman placed the call, a pit of dread in his stomach. They wouldn't tell him much other than the fact that his friend was undergoing tests and would be for most of the night. He thanked them politely and hung up feeling terrible about the fact that he hadn't been there to help his brother when he needed him most. All because of that stupid match last night had temporarily divided them.

Grabbing his gear and his keys, he headed out of the hotel room. He wished he could go to the hospital and see Dean but he knew what would happen if he didn't show up at the arena for RAW. The authority would probably strip him of the title shot that he earned and do something on SmackDown to make him and Dean pay for it. But should he cross paths with the so called beast tonight, he'd make sure to get a little payback for what the man had done to his best friend. No one messed with his family and didn't get what they deserved.

You could believe that.


	5. Name

**Summary: I was bored and decided to listen to one of the Chris Jericho podcasts that he did with Dean again. His reaction to getting his new name in FCW had me dying so this is a result of that.**

* * *

 _May 27 2011 8:10 am_

He didn't like Florida so far. Granted he had just arrived the day before yesterday but in that forty-eight hours, he had to deal with sticky humidity and oppressive heat. The crappy apartment he rented didn't have air conditioning. He had already seen way to many damn spiders for his liking in that place. His car, which was almost as old as he was, also didn't have the much needed cooling system so driving in the this tropically hellacious weather was torture.

But here he was, roasting in his car for the last ten minutes, staring at the old warehouse in front of him. He had to check the address several times because he thought he drove to the wrong place but unfortunately he hadn't. This was not what he was picturing when he signed the developmental contact. He figured that working for the biggest company in the business would mean a decent facility. The place in front of him looked more run down than the place he trained in.

"You going to continue to sit out here or you coming in?"

The voice startled him and his head whipped around to face it. Joey Mercury arched an eyebrow at his reaction and gave him a small grin. "Sorry, didn't mean to creep up on you."

"So this is it huh?" His fingers drummed a staccato rhythm against his collarbone, "First day of the rest of my career."

"You nervous?"

"Nope," And he wasn't. "Just wondering how this is gonna go down."

"Ah…" Joey nodded knowingly. "Worried about what everyone inside is going to think about the infamous Jon Moxley joining their ranks. Relax, you'll be fine. Just don't go stabbing anyone with a fork, ok?"

His blue eyes rolled at that quip as he exited his car. "I make no promises."

He followed Joey through the warehouse and past the two rings full of people training. As he walked by, everything came to a stop. He could feel the collect gaze of his new coworkers on him which made his lips twist in a cocky smirk. They obviously knew who he was because hushed whispers followed in his wake as he headed into the office. He had to admit, the fact that everyone was talking about him made him happy because that was the same reaction he was hoping to get from the fans.

The better he did his job, the quicker he could make it to the main roster. That was where he rightfully belonged. After all, he was not a newcomer comer to this business. He just had to use this chance to show the brass that they were idiots if they didn't know what they had in him.

"I'll go get Dream and Regal then we can start this meeting." Joey explained and closed the door behind him.

He slouched in the chair in the office, leg bouncing and fingers drumming in agitation as he waited for FCW's brass to come in and bestow his new name on him. That was such bullshit. His name was fine and most importantly it was known. Ok, so maybe it wasn't known for the best reasons but still it was stupid to change it. But since the WWE was insistent on having all rights and intellectual property claims to the names, it was unavoidable.

Joey came back in first, followed by Dusty Rhodes and William Regal. They all took seats and he tried not to fidget under their gaze. No one spoke. All they did was stare. It was so quiet that you could hear the ticking of the clock.

His leg started bouncing again of it's own accord. He could feel the tension in his body rising with each speechless second. Fuck, they weren't about to cut him already were they? Sure, he wasn't in the best shape he could be in but he did make an effort to get in better shape before reporting. Hell, he'd given up cigarettes just for this chance.

But that'd be just his luck. Finally make it to the big leagues and get shit canned before stepping foot in their ring. No real shot. Just a "sorry but we've changed our minds about you. Good luck in your future endeavors."

"We read the name suggestions you gave us." Dusty was appraising him and he met the older man's gaze. "Not bad but they just didn't feel right."

Damn, he'd been hoping they take one of the twenty assorted first and last names they had him write down after they refused his offer of giving them the rights to his already established name. Now he had to just hope that they didn't give him one that he absolutely despised. Because again, that would be just his luck. "Okay."

Commence more staring. It was really fucking uncomfortable. He wished that they'd just get this over with. The longer he had to try to sit still, the more agitated he would get and when he got like that, he usually ended up doing something he'd regret. Snapping "hurry the fuck up" at the people who held your future in their hands was definitely something that would bite him in the ass.

Finally Dusty sat back and nodded, "Dean Ambrose"

He tried to keep the disdain from his face but he had a feeling it showed. But in his defense, it couldn't be helped. Dean? What the fuck? Was he going to be a god damn frat boy? He was damn good at his job but he had no idea how to pull off a douche bag frat boy convincingly.

Dusty gave him a reassuring grin, as if he could read his mind and sense his internal panic. "Dean Ambrose is strong baby. He's a not someone you take lightly. Will do whatever he has to in order to get what he wants." The legend proclaimed. "He's charismatic and a little bit twisted. Likes to stir the pot."

He was slightly confused. Usually they repackaged you completely. New name and gimmick. But this didn't sound much different than Jon Moxley. So that was something he could definitely manage, something if the company ever loosened the leash that he could excel at.

The name really didn't fit what they were describing, he couldn't imagine a Dean ever being threatening. But then again, who was he to argue with a man who'd been in the business longer than he'd been alive. A man who had more knowledge and experience in his little finger than most people had in their entire body. So he swallowed down his hesitation and nodded, "Sounds good."


	6. Conversation

**So this fits in with Fallout, Brother and Attack.**

* * *

 _Feb 23, 2016_

Seth, fresh from rehabbing his knee, dropped down onto his couch and let out a sigh of exhaustion. He was three months into his recovery from knee surgery and working hard to shave some time off that six to nine month timetable the doctor's had quoted. So five days a week for four hours a day, he hauled his aching body to the physical therapists office. The other two days were light stretching and mobility exercises that he could do at home. Hopefully the hard work would pay off in the long run and he could be back in the ring sooner than later.

Being away from the ring was weird. So much of his life consisted of wrestling. He hadn't been out of the business for so long in years, since his neck injury when he was on the Indy scene. Now to be relegated to the role of spectator felt kind of surreal. It also gave him a new appreciation for what they did by going out in front of crowds who's reactions changed daily.

But ever since what he saw at Fastlane, he had been wishing that he was there. That he could do something to stop the chaos he saw unfolding. While he should be enjoying the widening chasm between his former Shield brethren, he didn't. They had managed to stick together despite his betrayal and everything the authority had done to drive them apart. Them allowing a belt to come between them was ridiculous.

Of course his effort to intervene hadn't done anything.

But at least the coming implosion didn't happen last night. Of course that could be because Brock attacked Dean before RAW then gave him an F5 when the crazy bastard showed up at the show and demanded a no holds barred street fight at Wrestlemania and Roman got destroyed by Triple H. So their paths hadn't crossed. Unless they were traveling together to the next destination. And he honestly hoped that was the case because they needed each other.

He grabbed his Ipad and logged into Twitter. Scrolling through his timeline, a smile curved his lips as he saw all the we miss you messages people tweeted to him. They were a hell of a lot better than the death threats he received when the Shield broke up. Of course he had anticipated backlash from his actions. But for it to be that extreme had been surprising.

A frown crossed his face as he saw a tweet from WWE saying that Roman was undergoing surgery for a shattered nose. A bit of remorse shot through him for his former friend. Getting injured sucked. But getting injured when you were going to be a huge match sucked even worse. There was the uncertainty of whether or not you could recover in time. If you had to give up the spot you earned because of the injury or let the pressure of trying to get back in time get to you.

He reached into the pocket of his track pants and pulled out his cell-phone. Hitting Roman's name, his thumb hovered for a moment over the dial icon before pressing it. Screw it. Might as well just check up on him. There was no harm in one injured wrestler calling to wish the other well.

Three rings then it was answered but not by Roman.

"Well this is becoming an unpleasant fucking pattern." Dean's pissed off growl met his ears and he flinched. "Can't you just fucking crawl back into your hole in Iowa and forget our numbers?"

Damn, he hadn't been expecting Dean to answer the other man's phone. He chewed slightly on his lip, wondering if Roman had told the eccentric man about the voicemail Seth had left. If so then this situation could get really ugly, really fast. "I just heard about Roman…"

"Really?" He laughed that cold, mocking laugh. "And what? You wanna pretend that you didn't enjoy it? That you give a damn that your daddy beat the hell outta him, making him a little less pretty?"

"I-I just wanted to see if he was okay." He stuttered out, relief washing through him that dirty blonde didn't seem to know about his previous attempt to reach out to the Samoan man.

If Dean had any indication then he would have already unleashed his rage on Seth's ears. Hell if there wasn't a taping tonight, the lunatic probably would have jumped a plane to Iowa and tried to rearrange his face. So either Roman didn't mention it or he hadn't been bothered to listen to the message. Maybe he listened and just figured that there was no merit in it. That it was nothing more than a paranoid hunch from someone he didn't trust as far as he could throw.

"Right." More scathing laughter. "You gonna try to sell me a bridge next? Cause I ain't buying."

"Huh?"

"You're not our friend. Definitely not our brother. Never were, remember? And we ain't business partners anymore either." He spoke venomously, "You don't give a damn about us, never have and never will. Seth Rollins only cares about Seth Rollins."

That hurt. There was something disturbingly poetic about Dean using his own words against him. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, determined not to allow the other man to get to him anymore than he already had. "I know that you don't believe it but I just want to know how the surgery's going. That Roman's going to be alright."

"Why?" The suspicion was heavy in the older man's voice. "Triple H looking for an update? Wants to get an idea of when he can finish what he started?"

His eyes widened at that. Did Dean really think that little of him? Believe that the only reason he would call to check up on Roman was to report back to the authority? He hadn't spoken to Triple H or Stephanie since the day he called to tell them that he was going to have to have knee surgery. Of course the other man wouldn't know that but it still stung to be thought of as nothing more than a snitch. "I'm not going to tell them anything."

"You're damn right you won't be telling them anything cause I'm not telling you shit about Roman." Dean informed him harshly.

A thought floated into his head and he sat up a little straighter, "The beating Brock gave you."

"What the fuck you rambling about?"

"You snuck out of the hospital! Confronted him and ate an F-5." He blinked in sudden, disbelieving realization. "You're answering Roman's phone because you're sharing a hospital room."

Queue more laughter, "Wow, the cliché is true! When you assume you really do make an ass out of yourself."

He bit back the urge to scream. "Well what other reason would there be for you not being in a different city for tonight's SmackDown tapings? It's not like the authority would give you the day off just so you could be there with Roman."

"Because the medical staff is a bunch of lawsuit scared bitches that insisted that I sit out the rest of this week's shows even though there ain't nothing wrong with me."

Seth didn't believe that he was fine for one second. He knew for a fact that if they wouldn't clear him to perform for a few days that he had definitely suffered an injury. But he also knew that there was no way in hell that Dean would ever admit it. To himself or anyone who asked. Especially if it was someone he viewed as an enemy or as he already insinuated, a spy for the authority.

But he did believe him when he said that he wasn't a patient at the hospital. If he had been, a nurse definitely would have confiscated the phone by now with how pissed he was getting. "So you're just hanging out at the hospital, which you hate, until Roman's out of surgery?"

"It's what brother's do." He chuckled, "Course you wouldn't know anything about that."

Another pointed jab that stung. But he was getting sick of being the other man's punching bag of the day. "Yeah, cause you were a great brother at Fastlane when you took a page out of my book and bashed Roman's back in with a chair."

The scoff that met his ears was loud, "Nah, that wasn't a page out of your book cause we were opponents in that match. Not a team like we thought we were when you pulled your shit. It was just something that happened in the heat of competition."

"Dean," Seth took a deep breath, deciding to lay all the cards on the table. Hopefully that would encourage the other man to drop his guard and talk honestly. "I know you. Have for a long time now. There was more to you hitting him with that chair than just a heat of the moment thing."

"Whatever you wanna believe sellout." Dean's tone hardened. "Now you can take your phony concern and slink back under the rock you crawled out from."

He could sense that Ambrose was about to hang up on him so he blurted out the first thing he could think of to make sure that didn't happen. "I called Roman and left him a voicemail warning him that I thought you were going to turn on him at RAW."

"The fuck?" The other man's voice rose and there was a rustling as he apparently got up. There was the sound of movement, heavy footfalls on tile and a metallic door being slammed open. Apparently, he had decided to take this call outside because the distant sound of traffic could now be heard in the background. "Where the hell do you get off…"

"He needed to know." A heavy sigh tumbled from him. "I couldn't just stand by idly and watch it happen. It's why I called you…"

"Nah, you didn't do this to spare Roman or try to talk me out of whatever the hell you thought I was gonna do." The dirty blonde's voice was teeming with barely suppressed rage.

"I was concerned…"

"Bullshit! You just love stirring shit up." His temper had definitely flared to the point that he was having problems holding it back. "Need to keep the attention on you because you're so afraid of being forgotten. Well deal with it Rollins. Because you are being forgotten. More and more with every day and month that passes that we don't have to see your weasel-like face. Soon you'll be nothing more than some vague, unpleasant little footnote in our minds."

Direct hit.

He had forgotten how good his former friend could be at getting under your skin and using your deepest fear against you. That was something he shouldn't have forgotten. Because no one had been on the receiving end of it more than he had. Didn't mean that he ever got used to it or that it hurt less whenever it happened. "Believe it or not, I wasn't trying to stir anything up."

"I don't believe liars." He stated flatly. "Been there, done that, still got the knife marks on my back to remind me not to make the same mistake twice."

Seth's own anger flared and he decided it was time to turn the tables. Sometimes the best way to get through to Ambrose was to confront him. "But you'd go down the same path as I did and betray Roman just for that belt? Throw everything away just to have that title around your waist? Become a liar and add some of your own knife marks to his back?"

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm a little busy with Brock right now." The sneer was plain to hear in his words. "I ain't got time to go stabbing anyone in the back."

Sometimes, he really hated how smooth Dean was. He hadn't once slipped up and confirmed that he was originally plotting to destroy the remnants of the Shield. Hadn't raised a fuss over the notion that he was capable of it. No, he just deftly deflected by using his impending feud with Brock as an alibi. "What happens once you got the beast off your back and if Roman wins the title?"

"Who knows?" It was drawled lazily. "I don't plan that far ahead."

The words were supposed to be comforting. It was a typical Dean Ambrose response. Devil may care, laid back and casual. But there was that mocking note in his tone that suggested it was all bullshit. That he knew exactly what came next but wasn't planning on divulging that information at all.

"I know." Seth answered sadly. "I can see it coming."

There was a heavy silence for a few minutes then Dean cleared his throat. "What I know, is that this conversation is over."

Before he could get out a protest, the call was ended. He sighed in frustration and wondered if he should bother trying to call back. Dean had probably blocked him again. If he did, it wasn't like Roman would notice. And on the off chance that he noticed, he probably wouldn't give a damn anyway.

All Seth could do was sit back and hope he was wrong. That Dean wouldn't give into his darkest impulses and destroy everything. There was a chance he wouldn't. The fact that he was at Roman's bedside when he needed him most and was protecting the man's privacy from perceived threats were both good signs. But he had a feeling that the road to Wrestlemania was going to be a bumpy one for his two former friends anyway, no matter what happened.


	7. Epiphany

**Summary: This falls in with Fallout, Attack, Brother and Conversation.**

* * *

 _March 7, 2016_

Seth wondered if he was developing masochistic tendencies. How else would you explain turning into RAW and Smackdown and torturing yourself with the knowledge that if it hadn't been for one stupid botched landing that you would be there. On the road to Wrestlemania and a chance to have another incredible moment. But that wasn't the only reason why he inflicted this on himself. This was the only way he could keep tabs on what was happening with Roman and Dean.

Not that Roman had been there the last two weeks. He was smart, wasn't taking any unnecessary chances by showing up to engage in a verbal battle while he was recuperating. There was no way that he'd risk re-injuring himself and being kept away from the biggest show in their business. Everything was on the line for the Samoan, the title and the chance for payback.

On the other hand, Dean had been there minus the one Smackdown the medics forced him to sit out. He'd dragged his wounded body down to the ring, taped up and looking like an extra from the Walking Dead. Gotten the crap beaten out of him. But kept getting back up. Showing everyone how hard it was to keep him down, wanting to prove that he was tough enough to withstand whatever the beast threw at him come Wrestlemania.

That could all change come Saturday.

Dean had made sure of that over the last few shows. With Brock missing in action, he had focused his attention on Triple H and the title. Jumped past Roman in line and managed to goad Hunter into a match at Roadblock for the title. Tonight, he made it clear that this wasn't about avenging the beating that the cerebral assassin dished out to his brother and that he didn't care what Roman's plans had been. This was about him wanting that title and loving the fact that he could throw a wrench into everything by beating the C.O.O for the belt.

To borrow a phrase from their shield days, Ambrose had gone rogue again.

Seth sat back with a sigh and rubbed his temples.

This time the stakes were much higher than when it happened before. A win for Dean and Roman would lose everything. There was no way in hell Hunter would just stand idly by if he lost to the lunatic fringe, he'd invoke his rematch clause and probably make it for Mania. So either the match would become a triple threat or Roman would find himself cast out of it completely. There was the fact that they could change the Brock versus Dean match to be the championship match which would also leave Roman on the outside.

While it wasn't a chair to the back, it would still be the betrayal he had warned the older man about.

Maybe Dean didn't view it that way since Roman was out of action. When it came to right and wrong, the man's perspective on the matter was usually skewed. He always tended to straddle the line and just took whatever opportunity came his way. And if the break didn't come to him organically then he did whatever he could to make sure that there was no other option but to give him what he wanted. Because if you didn't then he'd keep coming after you until you had no choice but to give in.

Which is exactly what he made sure happened.

Triple H never made a secret of the fact that he didn't think much of Ambrose. Hadn't even considered him to join the authority when he was looking to split up the Shield. Mocked his lack of size by referring to him as little. He admitted that the unstable man hadn't been viewed as a serious threat to win the Fastlane main event and challenge him at Wrestlemania. That he saw him as nothing more than a speed bump or pothole on the road to his fight with Roman.

Talk about a huge oversight on Hunter's part.

Seth knew better than anyone that Dean could be a real threat. A very dangerous one at that. Because there was no lengths that the eccentric former member of the shield wouldn't go to. No match was too risky, no opponent was off limits and no weapon he wouldn't use if he had to. Hell, the man had held a screwdriver to his throat during their hell in a cell match and would've had no problem jabbing it into him had he not managed to get free.

The thing that got overlooked about Ambrose most was that he was smart, determined and cunning. There was no way he could have survived the hell of his past if he wasn't. Yeah, he was a little bit off and he did always lead with his heart instead of his head. But he wasn't the crazy, overly emotional madman that Triple H, JBL and a lot of other people perceived him to be. They bought into that notion because Dean wanted them to believe that, did his damnedest to make sure they did.

It worked to his advantage.

No one liked the idea of going against someone you couldn't predict. Especially people who lived by strategy. It put you at a distinct disadvantage. And no one really wanted to get in the ring with someone who wasn't adverse to bending the rules almost to the breaking point. There was nothing appealing about going against a person who'd bite, claw, scratch and do whatever else they wanted to in order to put you down.

Ambrose enjoyed knowing that he had a psychological advantage. That his opponent underestimated him. He loved being the pegged as the underdog. Took pleasure in making them pay for their mistake. It had served him well over the years, getting him to the top of almost every company he ever worked for.

The WWE was a different animal though. Talent and the ability to cut a great promo weren't as highly valued as they should have been. How the audience responded to you meant little to nothing anymore. It was unfortunate but true. In this era, there were other criteria's you had to fit in order to even be considered a contender for the championship.

The higher ups liked you to have a certain look. Big and strong, a body chiseled from granite. They wanted someone who dressed the part of a champion. Tailored suits and impeccably groomed. A person who had mainstream appeal to do all the TV and Magazine shoots they could get and who had a squeaky clean past that couldn't be held against the company.

Roman personified that image.

Dean didn't fit that mold at all.

In his own words, he was average looking. He wasn't the tallest and he was lanky as hell, his body wiry and unimpressive. His wardrobe consisted of mainly broken in jeans and t-shirts, hoodies and leather jackets. Most of the time, he looked like he had just woken up, rolled out of bed and showed up. As for his past, well, that was bad stretch of road littered with potholes and danger signs without any family legacy in the business to prop him up.

Roman was lucky in that respect. His last name had opened the doors, not that he didn't work hard because he did. He hadn't been wrestling as long as a lot of other guys. Didn't have as many moves up his sleeve but he worked incredibly hard to build a move-set that worked with his ability. But if he didn't have that family dynasty to fall back on then the climb to the top probably would have been a lot steeper.

Just like that, an epiphany hit Seth and it all made sense.

Dean had to make the most of any opportunity he could create for himself or that was given to him only due of injury to others. Because he wasn't someone who the company embraced and would get behind to push to the top. He had no choice but to do everything in his power to prove that they were wrong, that passion and talent meant something in the business. Even if it meant following in Seth's footsteps and turning his back on the one person who'd had his for years.

In the end, it wasn't about hurting or betraying Roman. Not really. Ambrose probably wasn't even thinking of the other man's feelings or what the outcome of this would do to their brotherhood. He'd just be the unfortunate collateral damage left in Dean's quest to achieve what he thought he deserved, what he felt he earned after twelve years of being in the business. To achieve the goal he set when he signed his developmental contract and showed up in FCW.

To not only get to the top but to take over the business.


	8. Anger

**AN: No matter the outcome of Roadblock, that was a hell of a match between Dean and Triple H. This ties in with Fallout, Attack, Brother, Conversation and Epiphany.**

* * *

 _March 13, 2016_

Dean hadn't slept. Not really. That was nothing new though. For years it had been a sick cycle of insomnia and his mind refusing to allow him to believe he was safe to sleep, that he didn't have to be alert and on guard because there was no one waiting in the shadows to hurt him. He'd drop off for a few minutes here and there, only to jolt awake and scan his surroundings.

Then he'd toss and turn until he could fall back into his restless slumber. The pattern would continue. At that point, he'd give up trying to rest and read whatever book he brought with him. It would usually help calm him down but he wouldn't bother trying to rest anymore. He'd gotten so used to being sleep deprived that it really didn't bother him anymore.

This time, it was different.

Burning anger and disgust kept him up, pacing the floor of his hotel room as his mind ran rampant replying the events of hours before. There was no doubt that he'd done his best at Roadblock. Went into the match more focused than he had ever been. Had a solid game-plan in place and was executing it to perfection. Pinned Hunter, gotten a three count only to have it taken away on a bullshit technicality.

He was getting really tired of being screwed by technicalities. Though he had his doubts that his foot had really been under the ropes. He wasn't new to this business after all. Was always aware of his proximity to the ropes. When he was a heel, it was so he could get an unfair advantage but now that he was playing on the right side of the rule book, it was to make sure that something like what happened last night didn't happen.

It wouldn't surprise him if the ref was in the authority's pocket.

Hunter said he always had a plan b. The bastard was so smug about it, practically gloating. At least this time, it didn't end with him being battered with a steel chair by someone he thought he could trust. But being screwed out of the win and title hurt almost as much. This would leave different scars on him than that attack had, ones that would drive him to do whatever he had to so he could make the big nosed asshole pay.

In the end, Triple H was declared the winner of the match. Hit the pedigree and snatched the victory he was so desperately craving from him. But the cerebral assassin hadn't really beaten him. He had beaten himself. After the waved off pin, he had lost his focus, let go of the game-plan and reverted back to his old fail-safe of throw anything you could at your opponent in order to win.

That was his mistake and he owned it.

A groan slipped past his lips as he heard a distinctive ping again. His phone had been blowing up all night but he ignored the damn thing. It was probably just Roman calling to check up on him, knowing how he got when he lost an important match. He wasn't in the mood to be placated by the older man. Told that he did his best and there would be other chances.

It was easy for the big, good looking, Samoan dynasty bred man to say. Everything just came easier for Roman. There was no door that his last name couldn't unlock in this business. No chance that his build and looks wouldn't get him straight to the top. Didn't matter that he didn't eat, sleep and breathe this business or that he hadn't spent years on the Indy scene doing whatever he could to make a name for himself.

It made no difference that Roman hated doing promo's because he wasn't good at them. Was of little consequence that the big man wasn't the kind of guy who could have a long match filled with in-ring psychology. That the big guy only felt comfortable doing the few moves that he knew he could do well. He was scared to fucking death to go outside his comfort zone. To try anything that he might end up failing at because he wasn't used to it.

So he didn't want or need his so called brother's comfort.

There was nothing that the older man could say that would soothe his ravaged pride and twisted psyche. What he needed was to hit something. Throw things around. Kick, claw and scratch at everything in sight. Rant and rave until it was out of his system and he felt like he could live with took place.

Then when the dust settled, he could move onto what awaited him at Wrestlemania; a no holds barred street fight with the beast. That would be a war. He probably wouldn't come out of it unscathed. Hell, he probably wouldn't win. But he was determined to inflict as much damage to Brock as he could.

It wouldn't be him if he didn't give as good as he got.

His hands tightened into fists as he heard him phone chime again. The urge to grab it and chuck it at the window was strong. You would think that someone would give up if they were being ignored. He knew he would if the situation was reversed. But Roman was persistent when he was worried about someone.

Deciding to fire back a quick I'm fine text, he grabbed his phone from the nightstand.

A scowl crossed his lips as he saw twenty-five messages and three voicemails. Talk about overkill. That expression morphed into one of confusion when he saw that only five of the text messages were from Roman. The rest had come from a number he didn't know.

He opened his brother's message first.

Sure enough, there were the comforting words he expected to see. You were amazing man. I'm proud of you. There is nothing for you to be ashamed of. Please don't tear yourself up over this. This proved to them that you deserve to be at the top of that mountain with gold around your waist.

As he predicted, they did nothing to make him feel better. They just made him feel angrier. Because while Roman meant them, he was also probably relieved. Him losing guaranteed that the Samoan still had his shot at the title. That he'd get to main event the biggest show in their industry again and most likely have his golden moment on the grandest stage of all.

Closing that thread, he opened the one from the number he didn't know.

He had been expecting to have been bombarded with naked pictures from some chick who got his number. But they weren't fan spam. His brow furrowed as his eyes scanned through the numerous messages. These texts were also positive. Praising his game plan, applauding his determination and saying that he had impressive even in the loss.

When he came to the last message in the thread, those eyes blinked in disbelief. There was no doubt who the sender was. While he knew the man had his number, he had never used it. It still didn't make sense that he had used it now. The message was loud and clear.

As he reread it again, he felt something inside him start to consider the words in front of his face. "If you ever get tired of being in Roman's shadow, there's always a plan b."


	9. Disturbing

**Summary: Just a little something that popped in my head from last night's RAW. Stand alone.**

* * *

 _March 14, 2016_

Roman was hanging out backstage. Ok, maybe that was simplifying things a little bit. He was going to get Hunter tonight but he wanted the element of surprise. So the twins had snuck him in a side door and hidden him in their locker-room. They brought him food from catering, complete with cheesecake so he was content watching the show and waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The rev of an engine caught his attention and he smirked as he saw his little brother make his way to the ring. He always loved Dean's promo's. The man was a natural on the mic, he had the crowd hanging on every word. It was no different tonight. The crowd even started chanting let's go Ambrose in the middle of his promo.

Must be nice to have the fans not hate you.

His eyes narrowed when Brock's music hit. Of course Heyman and the beast would interrupt. He just hoped Dean wouldn't let them get the upper hand, allow the crap that Paul spewed to get in his head. If he was going to slay the beast then Dean needed to keep focused. Go into it with a game plan like he had at Roadblock and stick to it so he had a chance against the so called conqueror.

The eccentric man did a good job. Baiting Brock until the larger man ignored Heyman's orders and headed toward the ring.

"Oh shit." Roman murmured, his anxiety ratcheting up.

Even though he knew Dean could take care of himself, he still worried. Because Brock was a tough son of a bitch who liked to hurt people. Made no secret of that fact. And Dean, well, Dean got a sick enjoyment of getting the shit kicked out of him. So he would provoke and taunt Lesnar without giving a damn about the consequences.

A smug smirk appeared on the face of the former Shield member as his opponent got closer. Like this was exactly what the younger man had counted on. Then he unzipped his jacket and hoodie. His hand dipped inside and pulled out a black object. He brandished that crowbar with a flourish, his mouth running a mile a minute as he eyed the conqueror circling the ring.

Brock finally charged and Dean went head hunting, causing the bigger man to scramble off the apron quickly in order to avoid being brained with the crowbar.

Grey eyes widened. He hadn't been expecting that. It was a little disturbing to see Dean look so at ease with a crowbar in hand. Knowing that his brother had walked down there with it hidden on him because he was counting on the fact that it was going to be used sent a thrill of alarm through him. The blonde man insisted that he had put that part of himself to rest but times like this made Roman question the truth of that statement.

Dean loved all things dangerous. Numerous times, he said that poking the hornet's nest to stir things up made him feel alive. He invited matches like street fights, extreme rules or hell in cell. Any time he got his hands on a weapon, there was this sick joy that would overtake his face and a crazed look that blossomed in his eyes. It was like he went to another place, one that terrified Roman to his core.

He had lost one brother to the dark side already and didn't want to lose another.

The Samoan man stood quickly. He needed to go try to talk Dean down. His brother got so keyed up after things like this, like a hyper-active kid who wanted to play with all his new toys on Christmas morning. If there wasn't someone there to calm him then he'd just start swinging that weapon around the locker room until the damage was done and he was calm. Last thing the other man needed was another fine for destruction of property.

Stealthily, Roman made his way from the twin's locker-room to his brother's. The door was open slightly and he could hear the rumble of voices. His head tilted as he tried to figure out who was in there with Dean. He opened the door a little more so he could see inside the room. The sight that greeted him made his heart stop and his blood run cold.

Mick Foley was handing Dean a long box covered in red wrapping paper. A pit of dread opened in his gut. While Roman liked Mick, he knew that there could be no good that came from the hardcore legend announcing that he was passing the torch to Dean. He stepped back as Foley shouted Cactus Jack's infamous catchphrase and headed to the door.

"Hey Roman," Mick greeted cordially with a smile. "Glad to see you back and good luck with your match against Hunter."

"Thanks," Roman muttered distractedly. "What's in the box you gave Dean?"

That innocent smile turned edgy. "Just a little something that I thought he would find good use for. Got to run. Have a good day!"

A blink of disbelief followed the hardcore legend's departure. That did nothing to make him feel any better about this situation. It made it worse. He shook his head and turned his attention back to the room, walking inside to get to the bottom of things. His steps faltered then stilled, mouth dropping open.

"Holy shit!" His startled exclamation was loud, causing Dean to jump and turn toward him, a barb wire wrapped bat in his hand that was ready to swing.

Seeing who it was, the blonde relaxed and gave him a dimpled grin. "Hey Ro! Welcome back bro! I missed ya!"

"What's that?" He pointed shakily at the offensive object.

"Huh?"

"That-that thing in your hand!"

"Oh," Blue eyes lit up like a child's with a new favorite toy. "This is Barbie. Isn't she beautiful?"

He really didn't know what was more disturbing. The fact that the damn thing had a name or that his brother looked like he was in love with it. This was bad, very bad. His brow furrowed and his big brother mode kicked in. There was no way he could let his brother keep that damn thing, he had to save him from his darker instincts.

Reaching a hand out to take the bat from Dean, he jerked it back quickly when the other man growled and snapped his teeth him. Like a fucking dog snapping at someone trying to take his food away. A shocked silence overtook the room. He stood there panting, cradling his hand protectively against his chest.

"What the hell?" His widened eyes gaped at the younger man. "Did you just try to bite me?"

That grin turned twisted and sadistic as his eyes went back to Barbie the bat. He gave it a loving caress, "Sorry bro but this beauty is all mine. Her and I, we're gonna have some good times together."


	10. Obsession

**Summary: Tie in with Disturbing.**

* * *

Roman sat on the bed in the hotel room he was sharing with Dean with his IPAD in front of him. But he wasn't paying any attention to the device. His mind was on other things. Had been ever since the other day. It wasn't focused on the hell he would go through with Hunter at Wrestlemania. That would be too pedestrian of a issue for him to have.

The object of his distraction was Dean.

His brother had gone out for a beer run. Why he felt the need to take that damned barbed wire abomination with him was anyone's guess. He'd learned a long time ago that sometimes it was better not to know the reasoning behind the dirty blonde's decisions. But the younger man's attachment to the inanimate object was scaring the hell out of him.

Ever since Mick gifted it to him, it was like he was under a damn spell.

He'd talk to it, murmuring lowly and reverently. His hand gently caressed the wood as he wiped it down with a dry cloth. Dean, who hated shopping, had run out Tuesday morning to get Barbie it's own damn bag because he didn't want anything to accidentally scratch it. He buckled the damn into the car seat and had given up his bed for it, opting to sleep on the floor. The Samoan had lost count of how many people were already threatened with an up close and personal meeting with it if Dean felt they were too close.

While a part of him could understand the man's determined mindset, he could not condone the obsession with the bat.

Dean had spent the last several years trying to leave his bloody past behind. Trying to build a legacy on his talent, not his ability to stab someone with a fork. To become more than the lunatic everyone perceived him to be. Show that he was talented and capable without having to spill blood. That he was more than just a throwback to the glory days of ECW.

All of which he accomplished.

But this feud with Brock had done something to his brother. Something bad. His most vicious, violent, primal instincts had been triggered. It was no longer just about surviving and winning. He was determined to hurt and maim the beast, to make the man bleed and feel pain no matter how much physical damage he had to endure to make it happen.

That was the part that made alarm race through Roman's blood.

It no longer felt like the Dean he had known for five years. Didn't sound like him either. It felt like someone else entirely. Someone he had never met but had heard about. A person who was usually only spoken about in hushed tones, afraid that even speaking the name was opening up a can of worms.

Jon Moxley.

The most sick and twisted part of the Dean's personality. A dark, twisted, sadistic soulless being that thrived on pain. Didn't matter if he was inflicting it or enduring it. All that mattered was that someone was screaming in agony. That there was blood painting his skin, be it his or his enemy's.

Dean slipping back into that would not be an easy to extinguish.

Mick Foley had not helped in that task. In fact, he was directly responsible for giving it new life. The hardcore legend was fanning the fans of the fire by suggesting that Dean take Brock on a journey through the dirty blonde's deep dark past. Passing the proverbial violent torch to some he considered an adequate successor. Then he poured gasoline on the blaze with his damn gift of Barbie.

So what options did that leave Roman?

Maybe he should attempt to reason with his brother. Try to get him to realize that this was not the Wrestlemania moment he really wanted. Make him remember the long term goal he had set. Get to the top with his ability and determination. Not his flair for brutality.

Of course with Dean's current mindset, that wouldn't work.

He could try once again to take that bat away. But he was kind of scared of what the younger man would do. After all, he almost bit him last time he attempted the task. That had been a warning to back off. To ignore it and try again would probably result in a much harsher response, like being introduced to the feeling of having that bat slammed into his face.

That was something he didn't want to experience.

So he was left with what? Begging Mick to take it back? Hoping that the airline lost it? Praying that the authority would ban the damn thing? Wishing that it would somehow be devoured by termites?

Roman was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't heard the door open. Didn't realize that he was no longer alone. That someone was sitting on the bed across from him. Staring at him with a furrowed brow. Fingers tapping impatiently on their collarbone as the beer that was being outstretched was going unnoticed.

He was pulled out of his thoughts finally when fingers clicked right in front of his face. Startled by the sudden noise, he jumped which sent his IPAD crashing to the floor. His hand grabbed it from the carpet and he was relieved to see that the screen protector did it's job. The case also worked because it came right on when he tried it. At least he wouldn't have to buy a new one.

Amused blue eyes met his, "You ok bro?"

A sigh heaved from him and he gave an unconvincing nod. "Yeah, fine, just lost in thought."

"Thinking about ripping Triple H's face apart and leaving it a crimson mask of shattered bones?"

The grin that twisted those lips was unsettling and he barely held back a shudder in response to it. This was the reason he was so concerned. That wasn't Dean. His brother would have said kicking his ass or some variation of it. Those disturbingly vivid words were all Moxley.

"You zone out of me again?"

"No."

"Then take the damn beer." Said bottle was thrust into his field of vision. "Cause if you don't, I'm gonna drink it."

He turned to face the other man fully but froze when he saw that the object of his brother's most violent dreams was lying across his lap. "You should put that away. Keep it hidden till Wrestlemania."

Those eyes turned cold, "Why?"

"Cause you don't want it getting lost or stolen right?"

"I ain't going to lose this beauty and I pity the stupid prick who tries to steal it from me." He chuckled but it lacked humor. "Cause I'll find em and cave their skull in with the crowbar then pry it out of their cold, dead hands."

Roman blinked, resisting the urge to cringe away from the other man as he affectionately patted the bat. That hadn't been a threat. It was a promise. He had to do something to end this sick obsession. Before his brother lost himself to the darkest aspect of his personality and couldn't come back from it.


	11. Road Trip

**Summary: This ties in with Disturbing and Obsession.**

* * *

This was the most uncomfortable drive from one arena to another that Roman had ever made. Usually, road trips were a blast but this one was definitely not. He tried to focus his attention on he road in front of him, not his passengers. But every so often he'd cast a wary glance out of the corner of his eye or in the rearview mirror. A shudder would run down his spine and he'd quickly focus on the long stretch of road in front of him.

For the first time in a long time, he wished he had opted to fly instead of driving.

Twitchy fingers drummed on the dashboard and he could feel the weight of a speculative, hard blue-eyed gaze on him but he tried his best to ignore it. Because he knew what would show on his face if he looked at the other man. Fear. It was hell to admit but right now, he was afraid of the dirty blonde that he called his brother. His foot hit the gas pedal a little harder and the car picked up speed slightly.

Why did these hardcore legends keep giving Dean weapons anyway? Was it some weird ass sort of initiation? Did they want to live vicariously through him? Want to see how far he'd go? If he'd end Brock once and for all?

It wasn't like he needed these extreme weapons. He knew first hand just how adept with steel chairs or a kendo stick his brother was. They didn't need to give him things that he could severely hurt or even kill someone with. It was just tempting fate to give someone who had such a bloody past presents that would ignite it again. To lure him down that rabbit hole when he had fought his way free from it.

Who else was going to creep out of the shadows and pass their badge of hardcore honor onto the younger man? Abdullah the Butcher? Please, Dean had his own fork that was just as infamous as the butcher's. Sandman? That'd be overkill considering he already had the man's preferred weapon in his collection too.

He really hoped that they could make it through the last three televised shows without anymore gifts being delivered. That was all he was asking for. His nerves really couldn't handle anymore presents that the legends thought were acceptable. Between the battle with Triple H and his brother's ever growing collection of weaponry, they were stretched tighter than piano wire. Right now, he hadn't gotten a full night's sleep since he saw Dean with Barbie in his clutches.

"So you ain't talking to me why?" Dean gritted out, agitation plain in his tone and his fingers moved from the dashboard to his collarbone.

There were so many ways he could answer that. Because I'm worried that you're losing it and spiraling back into your old mindset. There's a crowbar, barbed wire bat, kendo stick and chainsaw strapped into the backseat as if they were human. You attacked random people with weapons and carved up a bar with said chainsaw. I don't know what you're really capable of or if I'm safe from it.

None of those would go over really well.

"ANSWER ME!"

The shout made him jump in his seat and the SUV swerved because of it. He managed to get it back in control before it caused an accident. Letting out a shaky breath, he clamped his hands tighter on the steering wheel and tried to keep his face blank. "I just got a lot on my mind."

"Thinking of Hunter? All the ways you can torture him?" There was that creepy sadistic tone that made his skin crawl. "I could give you some ideas…"

"I'm good." He cut the other man off quickly, not wanting to know where that was going.

"You sure?" From the corner of his eye he could see the twisted, disturbing smirk on Dean's face and the evil gleam in his eyes. "Cause I got an idea involving a blowtorch, handcuffs, a dozen cinderblocks and broken glass."

The SUV veered again as he flinched as far away from his friend as he could. He corrected it and shook his head quickly. There was no way in hell he wanted to hear how those objects meshed together. It would probably give him nightmares for the rest of his life. Not to mention all the therapy he'd most likely have to undergo.

"The fuck's up with you?" Dean huffed angrily. "Trying to fuckin' kill us?"

Roman gulped, "Sorry about that."

They lapsed into a tense, uncomfortable silence. He could feel the heat of Dean's glare against his profile but kept his attention focused on driving safely. They were halfway to Boston. Only about two and a half hours left in this trip. All he had to do was keep his mind on that and not the other man and his descent into madness.

Dean harshly cleared his throat. "I gotta watch my back? You planning on putting a knife in it like Seth?"

He blinked in confusion. "What?"

"You're acting off, just like that traitorous fucker did right before he turned."

"I'm not planning on pulling a Seth." His tone was even and sincere. "Like I said, just got some stuff on my mind."

An eyebrow rose, "If it ain't bitch ass Trips then what's eating you?"

"You." He said with a heavy sigh. "I'm worried about you."

It felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders at the admission. Like he could finally breathe a little easier. At least for the moment. He chanced a look at his brother out of the corner of his eye. To his relief, the other man didn't look mad, only confused.

"Don't worry bro." Dean flashed a smile that was savage, almost baring his teeth. "I'm gonna dismember Brock at Wrestlemania and smear his blood across my skin like a fuckin' trophy."

Ah, there went that relieved feeling he got to savor for a moment. Fear gripped him once again and he clutched the steering wheel tighter. "That right there is what has me worried."

"Why?"

"Cause it's not you!" Roman shot back quickly. "Or at least not the you that I've known since FCW."

Blue eyes rolled, "I never hid the fact that I like these kinda matches."

"No, you haven't but you've never been so graphically violent when talking about them or what you're planning on doing." He stated firmly. "Moxley was."

The dirty blonde's leg started bouncing and his fingers tapped quickly against his collarbone. Both were classic signs that his brother's temper was rising. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Maybe you don't see it but ever since Brock Lesnar was thrown at us leading up to Fastlane, you've been obsessed with bringing him down. Now you're getting all these past hardcore legends passing the torch to you in the form of crazy ass weapons. Not that you need them because you're one of the most talented people I've ever met. But yet you're letting yourself get drawn back into the darkness and blood shed that you worked so hard to put behind you. It's scaring the hell out of me because I'm pretty sure that you're the one who's gonna end up hurt after the dust settles."

Dean had a scowl on his face and those blue eyes were cold. "Don't matter as long as I make that son of a bitch writhe in pain, scream in agony and make his blood flow like a waterfall."

Roman heaved a sigh and shook his head sadly. There was no talking through this. No bringing the other man back from the ledge. His brother was set in his choice and not going to listen to reason. He could only sit back and watch, hoping that when it was all said and done that he'd have his real brother back, not this deranged and warped part of him.


	12. Fear

**Summary: This ties in with Disturbing, Obsession and Road Trip.**

* * *

Roman was sprawled across his bed in his hotel room in Dallas. He was alone, rooming by himself until his wife and daughter arrived on Friday. Not that he'd have much time to spend with them. Wrestlemania week was packed with interviews, photo shoots, promotional appearances and company sponsored events that were mandatory to attend. There was also strict restrictions in place which included a curfew that stated all talent must be back in the hotel by nine pm and no public drinking.

Which was boring as hell.

Dean was also rooming by himself but for different reasons. The dirty blonde had the tendency to crave solitude when he was getting ready for a big match. However, there was more to that choice this time than simple routine, much more. Things had been strained between them since their ill-fated road trip last week. They'd barely spoken since that conversation in the car.

That was a rare occurrence. Ever since Seth's betrayal, they had grown closer and usually spoke at least once a day. If they didn't speak then they at least texted each other to check in or share a stupid joke. But the two days they had off had been radio silent. He thought that things would improve slightly when they were back on the road but to his surprise, Dean had rented his own car and room.

Even when they teamed together at the live shows, Dean had been quiet and detached. All of their fellow superstars had definitely noticed. Usually, live shows were the place that the younger man cut loose and had fun, trying new things or just goofing around to make sure the fans got a unique experience for their money. But he'd been serious and focused for the duration of the shows and his entire demeanor was intense. The few people on the roster who were close to the eccentric man were giving him a wide berth, admitting quietly that his unusual behavior was creeping them out.

Roman sought him out at Raw, looking endlessly for the other man. When he finally found him, he didn't approach him. Dean was in the midst of giving his nun-chucks a workout. He stood there, watching in disbelief as his brother effortlessly handled the weapon with a precision that was down right frightening. Yes, he knew that his best friend had nun-chucks, saw them numerous times at the man's apartment.

But he didn't know that he actually knew how to use them.

It was a little disconcerting to realize that he didn't know the other man as well as he thought he did. It was even more upsetting to realize that he shouldered the blame for that fact. He never dug too deep into his brother's past. That he never pressed to get to the bottom of things when the younger man was having one of those rare days when he was stuck in his head. Because he was afraid of what horrors he might find, what dark and disturbing skeleton was lurking in the closet.

Roman pinched the bridge of his nose.

It had taken him a long time to comprehend that Dean had no relationship with his family. He hadn't actually realized that until they were on the main roster and they had their first show in Cincinnati. When they were driving into the town, he asked Dean if his parents were coming to the show. After an awkward silence, the dirty blonde just said no. Figuring that they just weren't fans of the business that their son was in, he floated the idea of stopping by to see them at their house but again, that was quickly shot down by the younger man.

Seth had explained the situation later to him when Dean had left to go to the gym. Of course he didn't believe it at first, insisting that it was a gimmick. But the two tone man was determined to make him understand the circumstances. He sat him down in front of his ever present laptop and made him watch Jon Moxley promo's. It chilled him to the bone to see how wrong he had been, how alone his friend really was.

It also made him never want to know anything else about Moxley. He decided that side of the other man that was better left for dead. So he simply pretended that facet of his team mate didn't exist. Because he liked the Dean he knew for over a year as quirky and twitchy as he was. That was the way it had gone ever since, him remaining blissfully ignorant to the darkness inside his brother.

He grabbed his phone and scrolled through his contacts, His eyes landed on the name he was looking for and he took a deep breath. It took a moment before he pressed call. Every sound of the ring in his ear made his heartbeat increase. Finally, it was answered with a groggy hello and he decided to just plunge into the point of this call without exchanging pleasantries.

"I suck as a big brother."

"Uh, I think you called the wrong person." The voice was bewildered and he could just picture the matching expression on their face.

He could understand the feeling. It had been a long time since they'd spoken and even he had no real idea why he made that call. Maybe it was desperation. Or maybe he was hoping to find something to be able to hold onto hope.

"No, I intended to call you." Roman assured them. "Because I can see it now."

"See what now?"

He took another breath before answering. "Why I didn't see it coming when you betrayed us."

There was a quick, humorless chuckle before Seth's voice came back into his ear. "You drunk?"

"I don't look below the surface or try to delve deeper if the topic is upsetting." He sighed heavily, ignoring the question. "I just let it go and ignore it. You were acting off but I didn't press you on it. Just believed the excuses and went on with things as usual."

A long, thoughtful silence stretched before the former architect of the shield finally responded. "What's going on? Ambrose and you pranking me?"

"Dean isn't here." Roman hated that admission but gave another. "I'm losing him too and I don't know how to stop it."

"What do you mean?"

"I know you've been watching so you've seen the change in him. Well, it's not just on-screen." He released a shuddering breath. "This whole thing with Brock has brought out that dark side of him."

"Moxley." Seth murmured quietly, a touch of fear in his tone.

"He said that side of him was gone, dead and buried. But it's not. It reared it's ugly head and taken him over."

There was a whoosh of air, "You can't be sure of that…"

"I am." His tone was firm. "He doesn't act like Dean or talk like him either."

"Roman," Seth began but whatever he was about to say died quickly.

"I should have stepped in and stopped when I noticed Dean fixating on Lesnar during the build to Fastlane. But I did what I always do when I can't deal with something, I ignored it. Figured that he'd get a taste of what the beast could do and be done with it." He shook his head, "Then I just sat by idly and watched as he got seduced by the darkness."

"I think you're overreacting." Seth ventured hesitantly. "You know how Dean gets when it comes to big matches. He goes into whatever mindset will benefit the match most. This will pass after Mania."

He really wanted to believe what he was hearing but he didn't. "What if it doesn't? What happens if I lose Dean to Moxley like I lost you to Hunter?"

Again, there was silence.

Roman seized the opportunity to go back to his original point. "That's why I suck as a big brother. Because as much as I talk about family, I don't do anything to stop mine from falling apart. I just watch as it all goes to hell and regret it after."

He hung up before the younger man could answer and turned off his phone, pulling the blankets up around him to block out the harshness of his current reality.


	13. Encounter

**Summary: Post Wrestlemania. Ties into Obsession, Disturbing, Road Trip and Fear.**

* * *

Roman wanted to celebrate despite the fact that he'd have to be up early for an appearance on Good Morning America. Due to the length of the show and the late hour, he knew that it wouldn't be with his family. His wife and daughter were proud but exhausted and looking forward to going back to the hotel to rest. His parents had left right after his match ended because they had an early morning flight. The same went for his brother, sisters and their children.

Even Jimmy and Jey had begged off, citing how exhausted they were after a very long Wrestlemania week. But they promised that they'd do something after Smackdown finished taping. He understood the logic because it had been a week filled with media appearances, photo shoots, events, signings and the like. It definitely zapped your energy and made you crave your bed. But he was riding high on adrenaline and too keyed up to rest.

He looked around the arena, trying to find Dean. But his usual partner in crime was nowhere to be found. Which was odd. Normally he'd be backstage bouncing off the walls with more energy than someone who had been in a match should possess and ready to party at a moments notice. The younger man never refused grabbing a few cold ones after a show, it was a time honored decompression session for wrestlers since the start of the business.

When he entered the locker room, he saw the empty stall that the dirty blonde had used and sighed. He should have been expecting that. Dean's match with Brock hadn't been what his brother wanted. He'd wanted an epic, bloody war and gotten the beast's typical suplex/F-5 barrage that in no way resembled a No Holds Barred Street Fight. Because of that, his Wrestlemania moment had once again been denied and he had failed at proving that he could take down the beast.

But he had been hoping that he'd stick around. Now that Mania was over, they could get their brotherhood back on track. Put the tension and uneasiness that sprung up between them in the past. Get back to the easy, fun camaraderie that they had enjoyed for years. Forget everything else and just tear it up like they had been doing since they started teaming together.

He dropped down on the bench and rubbed his hands over his face. Obviously, that was wishful thinking. Another example of him not wanting to deal with the issues below the surface. Ignoring that they even existed and just keep moving. Onward, upward and all that optimistic bullshit that he clung to.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't realize that he was no longer alone. That someone had entered the locker room and taken a seat on the bench across from him. Their eyes locked on his trouble form and a slight frown curving their mouth. He would have remained oblivious to the presence if they hadn't spoken.

"Hey Rome."

His head shot up, eyes widening in disbelief as they stared at the person.

Seth gave him a small smile, "Glad to have you keeping it warm for me again until I get back."

Roman blinked, wondering if he was imagining things. Other than the desperate call that he made when he was tired and worried, they hadn't spoken in a long time. Hadn't really talked behind the scenes since the chair shot heard around the world.

"How you feeling?" The former architect of the shield inquired, studying him seriously.

"What are you doing here?"

"You knew I was here."

A small growl of frustration slipped from him, "I mean why are you here, in my locker room, acting like this is normal?"

The younger man adjusted his position, stretching his injured leg out in front of him and his gaze turned piercing. "Where's Dean?"

"I dunno," He forced a shrug and hoped it looked casual. "Around, somewhere."

"No, he's not." Seth rolled his eyes. "I saw him after his match. Thought about approaching him but the glare he sent me told me it wouldn't be one of my better ideas. That if I did, he had no problem punching me in the face. So I stood by and watched as he muttered, cursed and then tore out of here in a symphony of slamming doors with his bags in tow."

He opened his mouth to speak but what denial could he say?

"I've been watching since I got here and I don't just mean tonight." There was a weight in youngest man's words that hit him hard. "Ever since I got here Thursday, I've been waiting to see you two together. To see if anything changed since you made that call to me."

"Oh."

"You know what I saw instead?"

"What?"

"That you're right to be worried."

Roman felt a million different emotions flood through him at that confirmation. He wanted to be wrong. To think that this was just another rough patch and that they'd get through it, brotherhood intact. That this would pass like the constant butting of heads phase did. But now that hope had been extinguished by the man who seemed to perpetually be the one to exploit the cracks in the foundation.

"But Roman," Seth said firmly. "If it happens, the blame isn't all on Dean. Not by a long shot. You're going to shoulder some of it too. Because you are aware what's happening and he's not. Even though it made you desperate enough to call me and vent about it, you haven't done anything to try to change it."

"I know that." He admitted tiredly, needing to get this off his chest. "But I don't know if I can do it. If I can venture into his dark side and get him out of it without it making me see him differently."

There was a look of disappointment that flashed across the architect's face, "Did you know that Dean suspected that something was going on? That he pulled me aside that fateful morning and told me that if I needed to talk that he'd listen?"

"No," Roman blinked, blindsided by that revelation. "Dean never told me…"

"He didn't know what I was planning or what was going to happen. Thought I was just frustrated with things in the company or that life on the road was getting to me. But he could see that something wasn't right and was trying to help." Seth grew quite for a minute before continuing in a vulnerable tone. "I almost wanted to tell him because of that. To spare him the pain because I knew what it would do to him. But I didn't because I knew that he'd still have you when everything was said and done."

"Did sparing me cross your mind?"

"No."

He nodded bitterly, "Why not?"

Seth let out a shaky breath, looking weary. "Because I knew that you'd be ok. That whatever you felt about it, you wouldn't take it as personally as he did and that you'd use it to your advantage. Channel that rage into momentum."

That was exactly what he had done. Accepted the things that his former little brother said and never tried to get deeper. Turned his anger and hurt into a way to get to the top. Just went on with life as he knew it. Ignored everything else because he didn't want deal with anything that could get ugly.

"This is different Rome. Dean's not being lured away from you with promises of gold, money and the future he's always dreamed of." The younger man chewed thoughtfully on his lip. "He's being pulled away by his deepest, darkest fears. That he's not really good enough or talented enough to ever be anything more than a blood-smeared madman sideshow attraction that gets fed the scraps when injuries to the top guys occur. He'll never admit it but he's been beaten down since the end of the shield, not only physically but emotionally. He's standing on the ledge, arms spread and ready to jump back into the role."

"How do I keep him from going over the edge?"

"Just be there for him. Offer to listen to whatever is on his mind without judgment, no matter how ugly, twisted or unpleasant it is. If he tries to blow it off, keep pressing him because he'll crack eventually."

Roman watched as Seth adjusted his knee brace and slowly got to his feet. He realized that the younger man had dodged his initial question. A question that he now needed the answer to. "Why did you come here?"

There was a long, heavy silence then the architect spoke. "Because it never really was personal and right now, I don't have to pretend that there's not still a part of me that cares about the two of you."


	14. Street Team

**Summary: Another one from the FCW days. This was inspired by me watching the episode of Table for 3 with Dean and the guys talking about street team.**

* * *

 _June 3, 2011_

It was supposed to be his off day after enduring his first week of the WWE developmental system. No working out, no training, no promo class, no matches unlike the other six days in the week. A day to give his body and mind a break. But of course, that had been a lie. When he had signed the contract, they never mentioned that on said "day off" that you had to drive around with four random co-workers for four hours and staple flyers all around the town.

They called it Street Team. It was part of building camaraderie the brass said, working together to promote events and building team work. It was all bullshit of course. The truth was that FCW didn't have a promotion budget or a television deal. So it forced it's talent to do the promoting for them.

Dean had done that shit at sixteen as way to get his foot in the door so he could learn how to wrestle. Obviously, he never thought he'd be doing it again all these years later. If it was possible, he hated it now more than ever and he'd only been doing it for an hour. It was hot, humid and he was exhausted already. Plus, he didn't give a rat's ass about camaraderie and wasn't there to make friends.

Two of his forced car mates for the day seemed cool and tolerable. They seemed to loathe this as much as he did. Neither talked a lot. Worked quick. Obviously wanting to get this over with so they could go home.

The other one was the furthest from that description that you could get. He was annoying. His demeanor stuck on peppy positive douche bag. His mouth never shut. Worst of all, he seemed to actually be enjoying this mundane task and wanted it to go on forever.

"This is a wonderful poster!" Bo Rotunda cried for what had to be the million time as he passed him the flyer. "We all look so vivid and interesting. People will definitely want to come to the show and see us in person!"

Dean grit his teeth as he once again fought the urge to staple gun the upbeat man's lips together. The way he was carrying on about a computer generated piece of paper was enough to drive anyone insane. Three more hours of the boisterous enjoyment would drive him over the edge. He would not be held responsible for what he did at that point.

"It's photo-shopped Bo." The large Samoan who introduced himself as Leakee sighed as his patience also seemed to be waning. "And really badly at that. Richie's missing an arm."

Seth Rollins chuckled as he studied the poster in his hand again. "I didn't notice that."

"You really shouldn't dwell on the negative Leakee." Bo admonished, "It never serves you well in life. It just makes people want to avoid you for being a Debbie Downer!"

Dean stapled the flyer to the light post with a little more force that necessary as he muttered a long string of profanities under his breath. He swiped the back of his hand across his forehead, trying to rid it of sweat. They really needed to hurry this shit along, before he committed murder. "It's done, let's go."

"I think we need to celebrate this momentous occasion." Bo smiled widely. "Our first hour together as an awesome team. We should do a group hug!"

Seth was staring at him with a raised eyebrow with an expression that just screamed the other man couldn't be serious.

Leakee growled lowly and crossed his arms over his chest, his body language screaming that the positive man would be a fool to try to hug him.

"Do make me use this on you." Dean gestured to the staple gun in his hand. "In case you don't know, I ain't got a problem showing you just how bad this hurts. And trust me, it does. I'm talking from experience!"

Apparently, Bo thought it was a joke. Either he didn't sense the danger he was in or he didn't believe it was possible. Because he laughed and clapped his hands. In between bursts of chuckling, he praised him for his dark sense of humor.

The dirty blonde took a step forward and raised the stapler menacingly. A large arm stopped his progress and he looked up at the person who blocked his way in bewilderment.

"Can't let you do it even if I'm tempted myself." The Samoan man intoned, "Too many potential witnesses."

Seth interjected, pulling out his wallet and holding a twenty out toward Bo. "Why don't you go grab us some waters so we can celebrate? We'll wait for you in the car."

"That's a wonderful idea!" That freakishly wide smile spread even wider. "I'll be right back."

When the three men got into Leakee's car, the current FCW 15 champion leaned between the front seats and gave a wicked grin, "Drive!"

Dean snickered as they pulled away in a screech of rubber. He hadn't been expecting this from either of them. They both seemed to be the squeaky clean kind of guys. But now that he knew they weren't, they moved up from tolerable to decent. And if he ever decided that he wanted to make friends, they might actually fit the bill.


	15. Realization

**Summary: So this one is based on the current storyline we're seeing and doesn't tie in with any of the previous drabbles.**

* * *

Dean sighed as he trudged down the hall to the locker room. He was already exhausted and dropped down tiredly on the bench, ignoring everything going on around him. The European tour always took a lot out of them because it was so long. But unfortunately, this time, he didn't have Roman on tour with him to get through it with because he was headlining the other tour. While Chris was a blast to drink with on the long bus rides and Sami, Kevin and Cesaro were entertaining, it just wasn't the same.

Actually, nothing had been the same since Wrestlemania.

Roman had changed since winning the title this time around. There was a cockiness there that hadn't been before. An entitlement that sprung up unexpectedly. That whole **I'm the guy** thing proved that point. Yeah, winning the title gave you bragging rights but it didn't mean you should turn your back on the people who had been there for you since the start.

That was what it seemed like he was in the process of doing.

The once rock solid, unbreakable brotherhood had started to crumble ever since he won that damn belt. He couldn't take the blame for that though. Because he tried to follow their usual routine. But he was being ignored for lack of a better word. So the blame fell squarely on the broad shoulders of the Samoan man.

Ever since he won, he didn't have time to hang out before a show. Always claiming that he a wish to grant or a promo for this or that to shoot. Same thing after a show when the idea of grabbing a beer was brought up. Didn't call or text to check in when they were on separate shows. No reminders of what errands they had to get done on their days off like he always sent.

Roman didn't even bother with a one word response to the ones Dean sent.

He claimed that it was because he was busy. That being the champ came with a lot of extra demands on his time. While that was true to an extent, they had always been able to manage it well enough before. Hell, they were in touch everyday during Roman's last run with the title. So there was more to the story than that, he just wasn't giving it up yet.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on.

Apparently, he wasn't good enough to be the brother and best friend of the champion anymore. So he was being left behind and slowly forgotten. Why? He didn't know really, could only take a guess at the reason. Maybe it was because he wasn't a champion anymore himself or because he wasn't as successful as the other man because his past scared the company off from getting behind him.

 _"Maybe it's because he knows that your popularity will overshadow him."_

That thought had been popping into his head a lot lately. Because it really did seem like Roman started putting some distance between them after Fastlane. The crowd had been deafening with the boos when he'd gotten the pin. Hadn't been happy with Roman beating him again and voiced that displeasure all over social media apparently. Not that the shit spewed forth meant anything to the suits in charge of Dean but he knew that even though he claimed it didn't, it bugged Roman.

But that was out of his control.

Dean didn't know why people liked him and not the bigger man. Honestly, it still baffled him because up until two years ago, he'd always been hated. It wasn't like he was doing anything differently either. He had been the same since the day he said fuck being a character with a shitty ass gimmick and just started being a dialed up version of himself. That was way before he signed with WWE.

So how could he be blamed for it?

He shook himself out of his thoughts and took a look around the crowded room. Roman was no where to be seen. But the twins were there. So he stood up and headed over to them to find out what was going on.

"Deano!" Jimmy and Jey greeted him, doing their handshake. "What's up uce?"

"Not much, just looking for Rome." He was proud that he sounded so casual. "He have to do more media or make a wish before the show?"

"Nah man, Big Dog's been using his own dressing room. Taking full advantage of those perks of being the champ." Jey answered with a shrug, as if the fact wasn't a big deal.

No, the champion having the perk of his own locker room wasn't a big deal. Cena, Orton, Lesnar and Rollins had all had all taken advantage of that option. But Roman never had. He said that he preferred being with the boys, joking around and laughing until it was show time. That he'd never get so big that he felt like he was too good to hang with the people that helped get him there.

Guess that no longer applied.

Jimmy grinned, "Man, it must be nice. Having someplace quiet to just relax before you got to go out there and do your thing."

That was exactly what he needed. To get away and try to clear his head before he opened the show tonight. And he knew exactly the spot to do it in. "I'll see ya later. Got something I gotta do."

He left the locker room and walked around the arena, heading to a remote area that he found a couple of years ago. It was pretty secluded, tucked away from all the dressing rooms and the gorilla position. Because of that, it didn't see a lot of foot traffic. So he could just hang there and not worry about being found. Not that there'd be anyone looking for him.

Once he reached the spot, he flopped down on the stairs with a sigh.

The O2 held a lot of good memories for him. Though the coolest was the time the Shield had used the helicopter for their entrance. It was so badass and fitting of who they were at the time. They had been on top of the world. The best damn faction the WWE had seen in a long time and the best of brothers off-screen.

Too bad the memory was bittersweet.

Things were completely different now and not in a good way. One brother betrayed him to get to the top, tainting everything they shared. The other got to the top and was choosing to distance himself. For the first time in a long time, he was all alone. Should be used to it by now since everyone that he allowed to get close eventually left him.

Didn't mean it hurt any less.

There was no way that Dean would ever let anyone know that though. He learned a lot from his feud with Seth. Keep your emotions out of the equation. That way no one could use them against you. His back was already riddled with the scars of betrayals past, no need to add more.

It'd be easy to pretend that everything was fine on the road.

But when he was alone, he'd allow himself to feel everything. Searing pain at being pushed aside. The bitter sting of losing someone you trusted and thought would always have your back. That crushing disappointment of realizing that no matter how hard you tried, you'd always be disposable. Mind numbing disbelief that you were stupid enough to let someone in again when you knew how it would turn out.


	16. Jumpy

**Summary: Couldn't sleep last night so I was watched Battleground 2014. For some reason, when Dean popped out of the trunk of the car to get to Seth, it made me wonder what it would have been like if the WWE decided to go more twisted with the angle. Really let Dean act as crazy as they say he is. Which resulted in this crazy little one shot.**

* * *

 _July 20th 2014_

Seth's hands shook as he slid the key card through the reader of his hotel room door. It took three times before he managed to get the damn thing to work correctly. When the light finally flashed green, he hurried into the room and shut the door. He leaned against it, his eyes darting around the room. When he was satisfied that his former team mate wasn't lurking in the shadows waiting to attack him again, he let out the breath that he didn't realize he had been holding.

This was getting crazy.

He had been on high alert ever since Dean popped out of the trunk of his car to attack him earlier. Drove the entire way back to the hotel with his eyes pretty much glued on the car mirrors. Damn near had a panic attack whenever he had to stop at a red light or stop sign. Expecting to hear the blare of a horn as a car closed in on him or have his door suddenly wrenched open by a man wearing a twisted, sadistic smirk. Because he wouldn't put it past his former business associate to be deranged enough to hop in a car and chase after him.

After all, Dean had done that very thing to someone who cut him off before.

This wasn't the infamous story the eccentric blonde loved to tell about the incident in Laredo that landed him in police custody years ago. It happened shortly after they made their main roster debut. A car had cut them off and the next thing he knew, dean had flown into a curse filled road rage and was tailgating the damn vehicle. Thankfully, he had given up the chase when they hit a traffic jam. But that was after following the car for ten miles, pleading with them to pull over so he could rearrange their face.

So why was he still surprised by the dirty blonde's actions?

The relentless attacks were something he should have been expecting since this wasn't the first time that he found himself the target of the unstable man's ire. In his defense, the FCW days seemed so long ago that they were starting to get vague in his mind. After being team mates for almost two years, he was no longer used to his every movement being shadowed by a maniac just waiting to strike. Figured that the other man would have grown bored with him by now and moved onto someone else. Which was stupid on his behalf because he knew how personally Dean tended to take things.

It was weird how he was already forgetting things about his former team mate that were vital for him to keep in mind. Like the fact that no lock had ever kept the lunatic out of someplace. Given how many times he witnessed Dean getting back into the hotel room or their rentals after being locked out or losing his key, it should have been burned into his brain. Or that when the dirty blonde was feuding with someone, he became obsessed with them. Wanted them to never forget exactly who they were dealing with and enjoyed making their lives hell.

Then there was that damn way he yelled Seth's name when he was pissed off. That was something he had shoved out of his mind after their previous battles. Could have lived the rest of his life without having to hear it again. Like nails on a chalkboard, raw and grating. It still gave him chills down his spine to hear his name screamed with so much hatred and disgust.

Seth shook his head, pushing away from the door. This was not helping. He was known as the architect for a reason. What he needed to do was relax, calm down and clear his mind. Come up with a strategy for dealing with the rabid man's attention.

He grabbed the handle of his suitcase that was sitting in the middle of his room…

Wait.

What?

Seth quickly released his grasp on the handle, as if it was on fire, eyes widening as he stared at it. Instinct had him once again back himself up against the door. Because that bag shouldn't be in here right now. He dropped it in the parking lot when Dean attacked him. It was left behind, forgotten, as he got the hell away from the manic man.

There was only one way that it could have gotten back to the hotel.

His eyes accessed the room and he finally noticed little things that he initially missed when he entered. He mentally kicked himself for being so stupid. Had he noticed it before, he would have gotten the hell out of there.

Dean had been in there.

There was no doubt about it. That crazy bastard had somehow managed to beat him back to the hotel. Probably had sped the entire way without any fucks to give about the cops pulling him over for the crime. He probably didn't adhere to the red lights and stop signs that Seth had. Then he decided to break into his hotel room and leave a little reminder of what he was dealing with.

The lights had been left on in the main room and the bathroom which was something Seth never did. The bed had been pulled apart, the top mattress half on the floor and half on the bottom one. Something that wasn't commonly known about him was that he always brought his own pillow with him. Between allergies and his own germ paranoia, it was his only option. While the hotel ones were still neatly stacked in the corner where he had placed them, his was lying on the floor, ripped open and had stuffing spilling out of it.

Like it had been stabbed repeatedly with a knife.

Brown eyes drifted to the light spilling from the open bathroom door. He swallowed roughly. No, he didn't want to go in there. But he had to. Because he needed to know exactly how much damage had been done.

The steps that carried him to the room were shaky. His legs felt like jelly but he pushed forward. He came to a stop in the doorway, a breath hissing out between his lips as his eyes gaped at the red streaked mirror. There was only one word, four letters and punctuation. But the sight of it written on the mirror in all too familiar handwriting made his blood turn to ice.

"SETH!"


	17. Paranoia?

**Summary: Picks up right after Jumpy.**

* * *

 _July 21, 2014_

Seth cast a hunted glanced around the corridor before taking a step down it. His heart pounded in his chest as his eyes continuously swept over the surrounding area. He was a frazzled mess after what happened last night. He hadn't slept well at all, even after barricading his hotel room door. All he did was toss and turn for hours before finally falling into a nightmare riddled sleep then jolted awake at five am.

Which resulted in him being tired and on edge all day. Not to mention paranoid. It was so bad that he found himself looking over his shoulder everywhere he went. He even made sure to check the backseat and trunk of his rental before getting in it. That garnered him some odd looks and spiteful chuckles from the less than sympathetic co-workers who caught him in the act.

Screw them.

Like they'd be completely at ease if Dean was holding a grudge against them.

If he made sure that they remembered that he knew everything about them and that there was no safe place to hide. Had made their lives hell over the last month. Popped out of their trunk. Trashed their hotel room. Felt like they were being watched all day long…

He froze mid-step, the sound of footsteps from behind him pulling him from his thoughts. Sucking in a breath and tightening his grip on his new rolling duffle bag that his money in the bank briefcase rested on top of, he turned quickly to catch whoever it was in the act. Brown eyes blinked in disbelief as the darted around the empty hall. There was no way he imagined that sound. It had been too distinctive for it to be anything other than someone walking behind him.

Turning back, he started marching forward at a quicker pace, wanting to get to his dressing room as fast as he could. The footsteps returned, quicker and heavier than before. His pace quickened, palms starting to sweat as a cold chill shot down his spine. But so didn't those damn footsteps, easily matching his pace. Where the hell was his dressing room? Shouldn't he have reached it by now?

A door finally appeared ahead of him and he sprinted toward it, slamming through the metal door. But it wasn't a dressing room that he walked into. It seemed to be some type of storage room. He was surrounded by hockey and basketball nets, along with a bunch of other stuff that was concealed by large sheets of thick plastic.

But there was no time to dwell on his mistake.

The footsteps had come to a stop outside of the door.

Moving as quickly and quietly, he pulled his bag along with him as he hid behind an equipment trunk. His breath caught in his throat as the unmistakable sound of metal creaking open echoed around him. He hoped that they'd just leave when they didn't see him. But deep down he knew that hope was probably in vain. Because his luck wasn't that good.

The footsteps moved slowly around the room.

Seth pressed tighter into the shadows by the trunk. There was the loud bang of something clattering against concrete. He fought back the urge to let out a yell or move. No way in hell was he giving up his location.

"Seeeeetttthhh!"

Goosebumps rose on his flesh.

"Sssseeeettthhh!

He let go of his bag and pressed the palms of his hands against his ears, trying to drown out the sound.

"SETH!"

His body flinched automatically from the pitch of his former team mate's voice despite his attempt to block it.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Dean cajoled him, something else smashing to the ground when he finished.

He ground his heels into the floor to keep from jumping up from his spot and running out of the room as fast as he could.

"I know you're in here traitor!" There was a sick, sadistic chuckle. "You can't hide from me forever you backstabbing weasel!"

The hell he couldn't.

"SETH!" There was a barrage of bangs as the maniac obviously knocked things over in his rage-fueled search. "Don't you wanna thank me for returning your luggage?"

No, not at all.

"SETH!" More things hit the floor. "GET THE FUCK OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!"

That was not happening. No way in hell. Not until that psychopath was far, far away from here.

"SETH!"

That guttural scream was closer to him and if he peeked out slightly, he knew that his former business associate would be in sight. It was only a matter of moments before his hiding spot was discovered.

"SETH!"

The object covered in plastic closest to him crashed to the floor two feet from where he was curled up. Just when he thought that things were about to get really bad, the creek of the door signaled the arrival of someone else.

"Oh hey Ro, what's up?" Dean's voice was back to it's normal low rasp. "What'cha doing in here?"

Seth had never been so happy for Roman and his impeccable timing.

"I could hear you screaming Seth's name and things banging around." There was a heavy sigh and he knew that the older man was probably pinching the bridge of his nose. "I thought I was gonna have to break up a brawl or something. Glad to see that's not the case. But want to tell me why you were yelling and what the hell you're doing in here?"

There was a smooth, easy chuckle, "Sorry man, I'm just practicing my promo for the show. Didn't want to disturb anyone who was relaxing so looked for someplace secluded. Figured this fit the bill."

So many things disturbed Seth about what was happening. That Dean could laugh as if the notion of him attacking someone off camera was funny. The fact that he could swing from being so out of control to acting normal in a blink of an eye. How convincingly he could lie about his motives.

"You done?" Roman inquired, buying the story he had been told.

"For now." There was deeper meaning masked in the easy words. "Want to hit up catering? All that yelling hurt my damn throat."

"Sounds good bro."

"Be right out." Another fake but convincing laugh filled the room. "I put my phone down on one of the trunks."

"Ok man but hurry." Roman chuckled, "Don't want to miss out on the cheesecake."

The sound of the door closing sent a wave of fear coursing through Seth's body.

"The more you run, the worse it's gonna get sellout." A twisted cackle fell from the lunatic's lips. "Trust me on that Seth."


	18. Tattle

**_Summary: Follow up to Jumpy and Paranoia_**

* * *

 _July 22, 2014_

Seth groaned as sleep abandoned him at the sound of his alarm. He really didn't want to get up now to go to the gym since it was only seven am . Especially not when he'd only managed to get about two hours of sleep. Instead of making it to the next town at one-thirty am like he originally planned to, he hadn't gotten there until after four am. It couldn't be blamed traffic though.

Not wanting to encounter Dean, he had hung around after RAW ended later than he normally would because it wasn't too long of a drive. It shouldn't have taken more than an hour and a half so he dawdled. He chatted with Triple H for a while then took his time showering and changing. It looked like his mission was successful because he was the last superstar there. The only people who were left were the ring crew who were just about finished loading the trucks and they were pulling out as he crossed the parking lot.

But once he got to his rental, he realized what a mistake that plan turned out to be.

Because all four of the tires on his rental were flat.

Thankfully, they weren't slashed. Someone, and he knew exactly who, had let all the air out of them. That usually wouldn't be a problem because he always carried an emergency road side kit with him, complete with a pump. It had come in handy several times over the course of his life already and he never forgot to bring it with him. But when he opened the trunk to grab it, the kit wasn't in there.

When he called Triple A, he found out that his membership had been cancelled. That very afternoon. They could reinstate his account but it would take between twenty-four and forty-eight hours before it was active. So unless he wanted to pay an outrageous fee then they wouldn't be able to assist him until then. They did thank him for reinstating his account and he had to bite his tongue not to unleashed his pent up frustration on the operator.

His next call was to the rental company. It took about half an hour but he finally got through to their emergency road side assistance line. He explained the situation and once they stopped chuckling at his expense, they assured him that they would send someone out. That took another forty-five minutes and then longer than it should've for them to fill the tires with the air pump they brought. Once he finally got on the road, it was after two am.

Dean was keeping his promise.

Seth really didn't want to see how much worse things could get. Because he was one major incident away from a nervous breakdown. Something had to be done. He knew exactly what was the best way to handle this. Which was why he was up despite the fact that he was mentally and physically exhausted.

He needed to get down to the gym. Forgoing a shower, he threw on some workout clothes, grabbed his duffle and headed down to the hotel gym. His usual routine. Except he kept looking over his shoulder and made sure to take a good look around. Because there was no way in hell he wanted his first run in of the day to be with the lunatic that was stalking him.

When he got into the gym, he let out a breath. There was only one other person working out this early in the morning. It was exactly what he had been counting on. Hoping that the other man's routine hadn't changed. Steeling himself, he walked over to the machine next to the occupied one and dropped his bag.

Roman's eyes narrowed, lips curled in a sneer. "I'll be done with this in a minute."

"I don't need the machine." He responded softly, his confidence failing him. "I need a favor."

The machine beeped to a stop and the taller man turned to face him, his expression a mixture of disbelief and anger. "Why the hell would I do anything for you backstabber?"

Seth flinched but made himself hold the burning gaze. "Because it's important."

"Oh yeah?"

"I need you to get Dean to back off and stop taking this feud off screen."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

He shuddered slightly as a chill shot down his spine. "After the parking lot segment, Dean broke into then trashed my hotel room before I got back there."

"Bullshit, there's no way he did that."

"He did."

"No Seth, he didn't." Roman stated flatly. "Dean was kicked out of the arena. He couldn't come back in and he couldn't leave because I had the keys to the rental and the hotel room. They were in my bag until I went and picked him up at the bar across the street from the arena. Trust me, from how drunk he was, he was there all night."

Seth stared at him like he was stupid. "The suitcase I dropped and forgot about in the parking lot was sitting in the destroyed room, just waiting for me. There's only one way that it could have gotten there."

"Maybe your new Mommy and Daddy had one of their minions drop it off there for you."

"If that was the case then they wouldn't have trashed my room!"

"You're pathetic." Grey eyes rolled. "This is a new level of dirt bag, even for you."

"I'm telling you the truth." He insisted. "Dean asked me if I was gonna thank him for returning it!"

"When was this?"

"Yesterday, at RAW, when he followed me into that storage room to beat the hell out of me."

Roman's eyes narrowed further, "You mean the storage room where he was practicing his promo?"

"Since when does Dean ever practice a promo?" Seth shot back, wondering if his former team mate was always so gullible. "He can talk trash with the best of them in his damn sleep. The reason he was in that room was because I ran in there when I realized that he was following me."

"He probably wanted to go over your segments for the show and you reacted like the coward you are." His lips quirked in a smile. "Knowing Dean like I do, he probably wanted to mess with you because of it."

"Then how do you explain that when I left the arena last night, all my tires were flat and someone cancelled my triple a membership?" He shot back, arms outstretched wide as his anger over the whole situation bubbled to the surface. "Huh, what's your explanation for that?"

The Samoan smirked coldly, "If it really happened then it's probably one of the pissed off fans that's been sending you death threats."

"Really?" He felt the hope he had been holding onto crumble. "You don't think that Dean's behind all of this?"

"What I think is that you're lying your ass off, wanting to start shit between us because you realize that you made the wrong choice." Roman shook his head. "Sorry Seth, but it's not going to happen. You made your bed, now you've got to lie in it."

Seth watched him leave, his face twisted in disbelief. How could Roman just dismiss the situation like that? Why didn't he believe him?

He was pulled out of his thoughts when his phone buzzed. Looking at it, he frowned when he saw a text from a number that wasn't in his contacts. Thinking that it was probably one of the producers or agents that he rarely worked with contacting him with information for the taping, he opened it up.

 **"I'm gonna get you."**


	19. Stolen

**Summary: Follows Jumpy, Paranoia and Tattle.**

* * *

 _July 24, 2014_

Seth raked his hands through his hair before running them over his face. This was not what he was expecting. At all. He had been foolish enough to believe that once he was safe and sound in his own home that he'd have two days free of being harassed. To relax and come up with a way to end this sick feud with Dean.

But that wasn't to be.

Somehow, private information about him had been leaked online.

Places he frequented when he was home like the dog park he took Kevin to. The name and location of the gym he worked out at. His favorite place to get a coffee. That awesome microbrewery that he enjoyed. All of them had been revealed by one of the wrestling dirt sheets after they received an anonymous tip.

He'd been harassed by pissed off fans everyplace he went. They screamed profanity at him. Threatened him. Threw things at him and his car. It got so bad when he was at the gym this morning that the police had to come after someone lobbed a big rock at the window in front of the treadmill he was on.

At least his address and phone number hadn't been given out.

Taking a deep breath, he looked down when Kevin whimpered. They were stuck being prisoners in their own home. Usually, he'd take him to the park and let him run and play. But he couldn't today. Not when everyone knew what park he took the little yorkie too and wouldn't have an issue showing up to heckle him or worse.

There was no proof but he knew that it had to be Dean who gave up the information. He'd stayed at Seth's house before. Been to all those spots. Knew how much living someplace so off the radar and laid back meant to him. Knew how much he enjoyed the freedom that it gave him when he was home.

He absently scratched his beloved pet's head and sighed. "I'm sorry buddy."

Kevin tilted his head and nudged his hand, demanding more attention. So he scooped him up and held him close. "I can't take you to the park today."

The little dog nuzzled closer, obviously picking up his on his owners distress. Seth stroked him and took the comfort that his pet gave him. "How about we go out to the yard?"

Kevin's tail started wagging, as if he knew what his owner was talking about.

He set him down on the floor and headed into the kitchen, grabbing Kevin's favorite ball on his way to the back door. Normally, he didn't like to take his dog out in the yard because of the pool. The little yorkie couldn't swim but liked to jump into it. But as long as he kept an eye on him, it should be ok.

They had been playing fetch for a while when Seth could hear the chime of his doorbell. A frown crossed his face as he wondered who it could be. He wasn't expecting any company, everyone knew that he liked to just be alone on his last day off. Didn't call for a food delivery. He hadn't ordered anything online or had any scheduled deliveries...

The satellite!

Two weeks ago, the damn thing cut out and hadn't worked since. While he had netflix to help him cope, going two weeks without watching current episodes of Game of Thrones was killing him. He had called to set up an appointment and this was the slot he got. They said a technician would be out between twelve and four. Since it was after two now, it had to be them!

Because of everything else that had gone on, he forgot that they were scheduled to come out today to fix it. He sprinted into the house and to the front door. But no one was there when he pulled open the door. Stepping out onto the front porch, he looked around but didn't see any company vehicles parked near by. There was no sorry we missed you, please reschedule form either.

Shutting the door, he felt that damn chill shoot down his spine. Something wasn't right. If it had been someone from the satellite company, they would have left something or tried to call his phone. Their truck would have still been in sight when he got to the porch. He made sure that the door was locked then headed back out to the yard.

He froze when he got out there.

Kevin was nowhere to be seen.

"Oh no…"

Seth's heart started beating as he ran over to the pool, hoping that his dog hadn't jumped in again. Kevin wasn't on the surface. He ran around the pool and scanned the depths of the water but there was no sign of the pooch.

"Kevin!" He whistled sharply, the come command that that dog had been taught in the obedience class that he sent him to. "Come here boy!"

No little yorkie bounding up to him.

He frantically searched the yard, covering every inch of the space. No Kevin. Remembering that he left the backdoor open when he raced inside to answer the door, he decided to check the house. It was possible that Kevin had followed him back inside and curled up in his bed or on the couch. But after an extensive search, there was no sign of his beloved companion.

He ran shaking hands through his hair. Where the hell was he? He couldn't get out of the yard. There was a six foot fence around it, both for privacy and security. Yeah there was a part of the gate that exited to the driveway but he kept that padlocked.

Seth headed back out to the yard and checked to make sure that the lock was still in it's place. It was. So that meant that Kevin hadn't gotten out. Someone had gotten in and taken him. Yorkie's were notorious for being yappy but Kevin hadn't barked at all.

The only reason he wouldn't bark at an intruder is if he knew them.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. His finger hit contacts and he scrolled through until he found Dean's number. Pressing the phone icon, he groaned when it went straight to voicemail. He didn't bother leaving a message. The technology impaired psychopath didn't know how to check them.

His next scroll brought him to Roman's number. That one he knew would be answered. After two rings, it was. He didn't bother with a greeting, getting to the reason for his call right away. "Where's Dean with my dog!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Roman sounded really annoyed to be speaking with him.

"Kevin goes missing after someone played ding dong ditch with my doorbell. He didn't bark at all. That means he knew the person who dog napped him!"

"Are you on something?" There was real curiosity in the query. "Dean's at home in Las Vegas. That's nowhere near Iowa."

"You don't know that…"

"Just like you don't know that it's Dean who trashed your hotel room, flattened your tires or stole your dog." Roman bit off. "You're blaming him when the truth is that you've made a lot of enemies lately Seth. It's a really long list and it's getting longer by the day. But you don't want to think about that because it's easier for you to blame him. Makes you feel better about what you did and what you're still doing."

Seth hung up, not wanting to hear anymore of Roman's steadfast defense of Dean.


	20. Questioning

**Author's Note: Happy Mother's Day to all the mom's out there.**

 **Summary: Goes with Jumpy, Paranoia, Tattle and Stolen.**

* * *

 _July 24, 2014_

Roman sighed as he stared at his phone. Guess his former little brother didn't like what he had to say. Too bad. Seth had showed who he was and, unfortunately, that was a traitor and a liar. Unlike Dean who had proven that despite what you'd think about him, he was loyal to the select few people he trusted.

He didn't know what the hell Seth was up to with all these wild accusations against Dean. What was he hoping to accomplish with this? Was it just another way to antagonize Dean and get him to lash out? Did he want to get the dirty blonde suspended so he wouldn't have to deal with him? Or maybe he was doing the ultimate scumbag thing and he was trying to get him fired by making it seem like the so called lunatic fringe was really crazy?

Dean was not crazy. The man marched to the beat of his own drummer. He was quirky, sarcastic and caustic. Stubborn to a fault and held a grudge like no other. But he was more prone to ignoring and avoiding the person he was pissed off at because he didn't want to lash out at them and cost himself his job.

So there was no way in hell that he'd do the things that he was being accused of.

However, he also believed that something was really going on with Seth. That he really thought that these things were happening. Who knows? Maybe they really were. The fear in his voice during that call could not be faked but he had managed to piss off a lot of people in the last month, shield fans especially.

Or maybe Rollins was cracking under the weight of what he had done. Seth never dealt well with stress or with people trying to offer him constructive criticism. The authority definitely would dish out both. And he was going above and beyond to prove that they were right in their choice. That much pressure on anyone would make them crack.

Even though he didn't believe for one second that Dean had anything to do with those things, he was still going to call him. He'd play it cool. Bring up the conversation on the phone with Seth. The reaction he got would tell him everything he needed to know. So he hit speed-dial 3 and waited.

It rang once. Then again. Halfway through the third ring, it was answered with a groan.

"You ok man?" Roman sniggered, having a pretty good idea what the problem was.

"I'm good, went for a run to try to get rid of the hangover. Didn't really work." Dean's breathing was slightly labored. "Now I'm hungry but got nothing edible here."

That was typical of the dirty blonde. He wasn't much of a cook. So his fridge was usually pretty desolate. "What'd you do for dinner last night? Don't you got leftovers?"

"Buffet at the casino." There was a sigh. "Can't take it home. Not that I'd wanna cause their food sucked."

That, for Roman, cinched the fact that he was currently in Vegas. "Sushi included?"

"Nope." There was a sigh. "This place was more old school…ok it was a dive but never been there so wanted to check it out."

"Gonna go again?"

"Doubtful."

He chuckled, deciding to bring the conversation around where he needed to. "So Seth called me…"

"What the hell did he want?" The gravelly tone reflected confusion. "Rub salt in the wounds? Brag about how good his new mommy and daddy are taking care of him? Gloat about how uncle Kane won him that damn briefcase?"

"He said that someone stole Kevin."

"Uh…what?"

"Yeah, he was pretty out of his head about it. Said his bell rang but no one was there and when he went back into the yard, Kevin was gone."

There was a long pause, "I don't get it. Why'd he call you and not the cops? It's not like you're in the neighborhood, can slap on your cape and save the day."

"He wasn't calling for help."

"Oh please tell me that he isn't trying to use this to get back on your good side?" A loud scoff filled his ears. "It would be just like that weasel faced, fat necked son of a bitch to stoop to those levels."

This is where it got dicey. If the other man reacted defensively then he'd know that something was up. But if his reaction was what he was expecting then he could put Seth's accusations to rest once and for all. "No but I guess there's been some things happening the last few days-"

"Things?" Dean's tone was skeptical. "Like what?"

"Well, he said that when he got back to the hotel after he ran away at Battleground that someone had trashed his room. Then last night when he went to leave RAW, his tires were flat. All four of them. When he tried to call triple a, they told him that he cancelled his membership."

"And now someone took his dog." A whistle sounded in his ear. "Someone's got it out for puppet-suit Rollins pretty bad."

Roman sighed, "I reminded him that his attitude and behavior hadn't been making him a lot of friends lately."

"But let me guess, he thinks it's me right?" Dean chuckled but it was humorless. "I ain't surprised with all the bad blood between us. And even I gotta admit, that sounds like some shit I'd do."

"I don't think it does." He informed him earnestly. "Not now anyway. Maybe years ago when you were…"

"A twisted mess that made the Joker look sane?" There was a loud sigh, "Oh hell, I'm still that just better at hiding it."

He really hated when Dean would get so down on himself. Yeah, he screwed up some things, made mistakes in the past. Didn't exactly always do things on the up and up. But he'd learned from them and became a better person. "You know I'd never say that about you."

"Yeah, I know."

"I told Seth that there's no way you're responsible for those things. During Battleground, you couldn't come back in the arena and spent the night at the bar across the street, without the car keys or card to the hotel."

There was a snort, "I didn't even have my damn wallet."

Roman frowned, baffled by that tidbit. "How'd you get drinks with no money?"

"Cause they love me in Tampa!" Dean boasted proudly, "The second I walked in there, people were sending drinks over to me. I couldn't be rude and say no."

He rolled his eyes at the notion of his brother turning down a free drink. There was a better chance of winning the lottery twice in a row than that happening. "Of course you couldn't."

"Bet old backstabber didn't believe you though."

"Who cares? All that matters is that you're in Vegas right now. That's over a thousand miles and several states away from Iowa." A sense of relief washed over him. "Unless you've mastered being in two places at the same time, you couldn't have taken his dog."

"Uh nope, can't say that I have." Dean's voice was tired. "I'm gonna jump in the shower so I can go get food. I'll see ya tomorrow Ro."

"See ya then bro."


	21. Faceoff

**Summary: The continuation of Jumpy, Paranoia, Tattle, Stolen and Questioning.**

* * *

 _July 24, 2016_

To say that Seth was relieved to get the call that a neighbor had found Kevin at the dog park down the street from his house was an understatement. He was grateful, elated, ecstatic and overwhelmed. He was wandering through the park, playing with other dogs, all alone. There was no scruffy, slouchy, crazy eyed dirty blonde in sight. When he got to the park, his dog was unharmed, content and happily waged his tail when he scooped the little guy up into his arms.

Now, as he led Kevin back up to the porch of his house, he had to admit that maybe he overreacted. This thing with Ambrose had him seeing ghosts were there were none. Kevin had probably slipped past him when he opened the door and walked out on the porch to see if the satellite truck was round. It wouldn't be the first time the little yorkie had done that. His obedience training hadn't curbed that habit and he tended to wander away when given the chance.

At least he hadn't gotten himself hit by a car this time.

He opened the door, setting Kevin down with another gentle admonishment. God, if what he just went through was any indication then he was never going to have children. They'd either drive him out of his mind or to an early grave. Once it was closed and locked, and he made sure that it was closed tight so the little rascal couldn't escape again, he froze.

Oh shit.

His eyes widened at the sight of scuffed up Nikes propped up on his coffee table. They trailed up over well worn jeans and a black beater tank top. With a harsh swallow, brown eyes landed on frozen blue ones. He blinked, trying to clear his vision because what he was seeing couldn't be right but it didn't. Dean lounged in his recliner with a beer in one hand and stared back, his lips slowly curving into a disturbing smirk that sent chills down his spine.

"Hey Seth!" That gravelly voice held an odd note in it as Kevin jumped up into his lap. "I was in the neighborhood and figured I'd drop by. Heard you've been having some trouble."

He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't find his voice. Instead, he stood there and gaped at his former teammate as he idly petted Kevin.

That smirk morphed into a sinister looking sneer. "Looks like someone's got it out for you."

"How'd you get in?" While that wasn't what Seth had intended to say, it was what he had been thinking. He always locked his doors. It was something that he was always fanatical about. Especially lately since he'd been receiving death threats. He didn't want to leave them any opening to make them a reality.

Those blue eyes flashed, "A magician never reveals his secrets."

"Get out." He wanted the words to be fierce and sharp but they weren't. Falling out of his mouth helpless and weak. More like he was asking than telling. There was no way in hell that would move his former business partner in the least. "Now."

That sneer turned slightly patronizing. "Trying to kick out your brother?"

"We're not brothers."

"Oops, guess I forgot for a second." He chuckled but there was no humor in it, only a searing bitterness that grated on his raw nerves.

"You're not welcome here Ambrose." He forced himself to stand tall. "I know that you're behind all of this."

"I am?"

"You know you are so drop the innocent act."

Several unidentifiable emotions pass over the older man's face but they were gone too quickly and replaced with that same blank but chilling gaze. "Can you prove it?"

"What?"

"Got proof?" Dean prodded, his eyes gleaming wickedly. "Your word doesn't hold much weight sellout. If you wanna run to Daddy and tattle since Roman doesn't believe it, you'll need to have something to back it up. Because there were no incident reports filed about these supposed event's even Daddy will wonder about the validity of them."

"You being here, in my house, is proof."

"But I'm not here Seth."

Ok, that wasn't what he was expecting to hear. "Yes, you are."

"Nope, I'm not here at all."

"What the hell are you talking about?" He shook his head in exasperation. "You're sitting right there Ambrose!"

"I'm in Vegas right now and there's a bunch of people that will attest to that" That twisted grin curled his lips again and he eerily looked like the Joker. "Must be your mind playing tricks on you."

He really couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You're crazy."

"Nah, think you're the one who lost his mind. Can't tell scripted from reality anymore." His voice was cajoling, softened with a sickly sweet note. "It's getting to you. All the pressure, the expectations. You're cracking traitor."

There was no way in hell that was true. He was not having an argument with a hallucination. The other man was there. A real living and breathing person, taking a damn sip of beer as he mindless scratched behind Kevin's ears. Looking far too confident and comfortable for the architect's liking.

Seth needed to get him to admit what he was doing. "I don't crack Ambrose. I'm rock solid, mind sharp and clear. That's why they picked me and not you."

"Riiiight."

"You don't think so?"

Dean's eyes rolled, "Oh please, they chose you because they knew that you're weak, easily manipulated and need validation for everything you do. That you can't function without someone patting you on the head and telling you what a good boy you are."

That made him bristle. This whole thing had crossed the line. It was one thing to attack him on the show but it was entirely another to do it off-screen. He charged forward, tired of the games. It was time to show Ambrose that he wasn't the sniveling little coward he pretended to be for the camera's.

Unfortunately for him, Dean was a seasoned fighter. He'd grown up in a life where he had to know how to protect himself. But that didn't matter. The thoughts of finally ending this driving him forward. While he might not win the fight, he'd make sure that he got in as many shots as he could before going down.

Seth didn't know how it happened. He never saw the other man move but before he could even swing a fist, his face was pressed against the wall and his arms were twisted up behind his back. It hurt like hell but he still tried to break free. His foot lashed out but didn't connect with anything solid. The pretzel-like hold on his arms tightened and he winced in pain.

"Nice try sellout." The voice was a savage hiss. "But this time, you tipped your hand."

"You saw it coming the first time!" He shot back, sick and tired of hearing how he stabbed the bastard in the back. "After I hit Roman, you turned to face me. Saw the chair and knew what I'd do. You could have decided not to come at me, to just accept the fact that the Shield was over but you made the move. I reacted!"

That was the last thing he remembered because everything suddenly went black.


	22. Crazy

**Summary: Continuation of Jumpy, Paranoia, Tattle, Stolen, Questioning and Faceoff**

* * *

 _July 25, 2014 6:00am_

The blare of the alarm clock cut through his sleep, dragging him back to reality. Seth grumbled slightly but lifted his head from his pillow. The sun was pouring in through his window and he could feel the sticky notes of humidity in the air already. He grabbed his phone and hit the red x, killing the grating sound. Kevin shifted beside him and curled tighter into his side.

It was a perfect morning.

Until he remembered what happened last night.

His body froze as his eyes darted around his room. No one was there. He listened intently, trying to hear beyond his room. There was nothing but silence. While that should have been comforting, it wasn't.

He slowly tested all his limbs. There was no pain. His eyes swept over his arms, searching for bruises that should be there. But there was none. Using the forward facing camera on his phone, he inspected his face for damage but all it showed was his normal reflection.

What the hell?

This didn't make sense.

If Dean had attacked him last night, there should be some sign of it. Cuts, bruises or pain. Something other than the usual aches that he had every day since he started wrestling. Also, he doubted that if he had been attacked that Dean would have stopped and just allowed him to go to bed. The man was a pit-bull, once he started on someone, he didn't stop until he was pulled off or he was sure that the person wasn't getting up.

Seth climbed out of bed, expecting that he'd feel some sudden onslaught of pain but only the usual tightness in his back that greeted him. He watched in confusion as Kevin stretched out and stole the spot his master had previously been in. This was like any other morning that he was off but it shouldn't be. Something should be out of whack or completely abnormal, like waking up battered and in the custody of a lunatic.

He cautiously made his way down stairs, his eyes all darting to check his surroundings. But everything was normal so far. Nothing broken or out of place. At the end of the stairs, he stopped and surveyed the living room. Since the confrontation had happened in there then there should be some sign of it.

But there wasn't.

Everything was how it usually was. Unbroken pictures on the mantel over his fireplace and his giant flat screen intact on the spotless entertainment center. Remotes neatly lined up in the carousel on his end table, a couple of cross fit magazines stacked by date rested beside it. Coffee table completely clear of anything and his throw pillows arranged exactly how they normally were on the couch. The recliner was empty like it always was.

What the hell was going on?

Dean wouldn't have bothered to be careful of not breaking anything. That crazy bastard would have enjoyed destroying stuff. He sure as hell wouldn't clean up after an assault. There was no way in hell that he'd ever remember the exact order of the way the architect had everything in place. The dirty blonde was so forgetful he had lost over a hundred phone chargers and three IPADS.

This was giving him a headache. There should be proof that he had encountered Dean last night. That a physical confrontation had happened. Something knocked askew or broken, a crack in the damn wall or something. But there wasn't anything at all that backed up that memory.

He stalked through the room, frowning. None of this was adding up. There was only one other thing that could prove that the unstable former member of the shield had been there. It wasn't going to be pleasant but he had to do it. "I need proof."

In the kitchen, he stepped on the pedal of his trashcan. There was no beer bottle sitting on top like he expected. But that didn't mean that it wasn't in there. So he took a deep breath, pushed aside the thoughts of germs and bacteria that his brain was shouting at him and started rooting around in the bag. He grimaced as he pawed through the trash, trying to ignore the way his skin crawled as it encountered things he didn't want to identify.

There was no beer bottle in it.

Seth growled, rushing over to the sink and proceeded to lather his hands and upper arms in the anti-bacterial soap he kept on the counter. He finished and wiped his arms with paper towels. His eyes drifted to the fridge and widened. His former "brother" would never drink a warm beer, that was sacrilege. So he'd put them in the fridge to make sure they were nice and cold.

He wrenched open the stainless steel door. His eyes swept the contents of the shelves. Organic fruits and vegetables, sugar free almond milk, Kevin's natural dog food. The protein shake he had prepared for his morning breakfast. A case of bottled water and that half a gallon of the Vanilla Porter microbrew he'd picked up the last time he was at the Front Street Brewery.

None of that cheap, nasty domestic beer that the lunatic favored in sight.

The door to the fridge slammed shut and he rested his forehead against it. Dean wasn't a criminal mastermind. There should be something that proved that the self-proclaimed eccentric man had been in his house. But there was nothing. No proof that the encounter ever happened.

Seth swallowed heavily.

Maybe the whole thing was nothing more than a nightmare that felt real? It wouldn't be the first time that he'd suffered from one of those since he turned on his former teammates. They had plagued him in the days leading up to the steel chair heard around world moment and for the first two weeks after. Could be that since Dean was getting under his carefully crafted façade of coldness by doing his best impression of the Joker that they had started up again.

Was the stress finally getting to him? Ever since he betrayed the shield, there was a target on his back. Roman was right when he said that he'd made a lot of enemies because he had. No one in the locker room trusted him or wanted to be friends with him. And the fans, well, they were screaming for his blood every night and some were threatening to spill it themselves.

Not to mention that he didn't really trust anyone in the authority…

Seth would be foolish to overlook their history. No one would ever call him foolish. His mind was his best asset, sharp and able to focus on every little detail. So he stayed vigilant around them and made sure to recognize the signs that they were about to turn their wrath on someone. Figured if he categorized their tells so that he'd see it coming if they ever decided that he was no longer best for business.

This had to stop. He couldn't let anyone know what was going on in his head anymore. They'd use it against him. The best thing he could do was act like nothing was wrong, that all was right in his world. That he was completely fine and confident in the choices he made and that the lunatic's mind games weren't getting to him.


	23. Counterattack

**Summary: Follows Jumpy, Paranoia, Tattle, Stolen, Questioning, Faceoff and Crazy. Jumps ahead to the infamous curb stomp heard around the WWE Universe.**

* * *

 _August 18, 2014 Before RAW:_

Seth couldn't take it anymore. After almost a month of dealing with Ambrose's on screen and off-screen attacks, he was starting to wonder if he was losing his mind. The attacks on TV every week while nerve-wracking were nothing too serious. But the ones that no one saw were brutal. What was worse was that every time he thought that there'd be a shred of proof to link Dean to them, there wasn't.

The authority were convinced that it was a vindictive Shield fan behind them.

Nice thought but it wasn't true and the lie didn't help him settle down at all. He looked over his shoulder constantly. Hadn't had a decent sleep in weeks, not after the morning he woke up to discover that the blonde part of his hair had a chunk of it sawed off from his head. Was afraid to eat or drink anything, after an unpleasant incident involving brownies and a stray razor blade. Had security check his car thoroughly before he even thought about getting into it.

It went without saying that he looked horrible. There were large, dark bags under his eyes. Not eating had led to him dropping almost ten pounds. His hands shook so badly that he couldn't really work out. He walked around the hotel for hours every night to kill time and finally rested around four in the morning. When he was home, he sat on his couch with Kevin clutched to his side and a baseball bat within grabbing distance.

Enough was enough.

Summer-Slam hadn't ended the issues between them. He could feel it deep down in his soul. That lunatic was going to keep coming after him. Attacking him. Torturing him until there was nothing left but a man who was as broken mentally as Ambrose was.

His eyes wandered over the cinderblocks that workers for the authority were placing at ringside. He never imagined that it would come to something like this. But Dean had forced the issue, making it personal when it was just business. If he just backed off or dropped this insane vendetta then he wouldn't have pushed it to these measures. It was survival mode for Seth now and he refused to be the victim anymore.

"You sure about this?" Kane's deep voice startled him and he jumped.

He swung wide, terrified eyes towards the older man. Was he sure about this? Yes. That didn't mean that there wasn't a part of him, locked way down inside that didn't know if he could actually go through with it. Even though it was all Dean's fault that it had come to this.

"If you do this Seth, you either end his career or worse." The devil's favorite demon intoned quietly. "Are you sure that you could live with the guilt that'll come along with it?"

"If you were me, what would you do?" He inquired earnestly, needing to know the answer.

"You're asking the man who buried his own brother alive, burnt Jim Ross and tortured countless people over the years what he'd do?" Kane smirked. "I really don't think you need an answer to that."

"Then you understand why I need to do this." He was almost pleading with the big red machine to say that he did. "That this is the only way to get him to stop coming after me?"

"You could let me handle it."

That offer sent a chill down his spine as he watched the covering to conceal the blocks being lowered down over them. "No, I started the war and now I need to end it."

Kane nodded grimly. "You know that once you do this, there's no going back. Ambrose and you will never be friends again. Reigns will hate you even more and probably come after you for revenge."

He knew all that. But really, there was never any going back. Dean was never going to figure him for stabbing him in the back. He just didn't work that way. And Roman would side with the brother that remained loyal to him. Plus, once Seth cashed in and won the belt, they'd both come after him anyway.

Seth cleared his throat. "I'm aware."

"You look like you could use a good meal and a nap." The big red monster grinned savagely, clapping him on the shoulder roughly. "So go relax, listen to music and clear your mind. You got to be ready."

"Yeah, I'll be ready."

* * *

 _After RAW:_

Seth's ears were ringing when he reached the back. Every muscle in his body was shaking in either fatigue or shock, he really wasn't sure which. He kept pushing his trembling hands through his hair as he tried to get the image of Dean's head planted in the cinder blocks out of his head. The smell of chalky concrete powder from his nose and mouth. The sound of the horrified crowd from his mind and the disbelief of the commentators from his memory.

It was over now.

Ended with the most violent curb stomp he ever delivered.

Everything went perfectly to plan. Dean had never seen it coming. The curb stomp on the table had rendered him unable to escape. Kane had held him securely in case the man roused from his stupor before it was done. Then his booted foot connected with the lunatic's thick skull and drove it into those cinder blocks.

Everything had gone fuzzy after that. He barely remembered walking back to the locker room. The way everyone else in the locker room looked at him. Or Triple H wrapping an arm around him and congratulating him. Sinking down onto the couch in the authority's locker room and pulling his knees up to his chest.

And he had no clue how long passed as he sat there immobile.

His head snapped up at the sound of the door opening and his bleary eyes focused on Kane. The look on the other man's face was hard to read but he could only be there to deliver news. "What is it?"

"Ambrose got away from the medical staff."

He blinked in confusion. "What?"

Kane grimaced, "Apparently, he regained consciousness before they left ring side and once they tried to load him into the ambulance, he refused treatment and demanded to be released. Despite their best efforts to convince him to go to the hospital, he refused. When they moved to ignore him, there was an altercation and he escaped."

Seth's entire body went cold as the reality that this may not be over after-all sunk in on him.


	24. Laryngitis

**Summary: So basically, this was inspired by the fact that I currently have Laryngitis. It made me wonder how Dean would cope with that issue on the day of RAW.**

* * *

Dean mentally cursed his luck and decided that he might be better off leaving his bag in the rental because once they realized exactly how sick he was, they'd probably send him home. He'd been battling the flu all week and just when he thought he beat it, he woke up with no voice on the day of RAW. Nothing but a pained, cracked, barely audible whisper. He wasn't sure what was in store for him now that his program with Chris had drawn to a close. But usually, he either had a promo or backstage segment that required him to run his mouth. So how the hell was he supposed to do that with laryngitis?

As he made his way through the backstage, he nodded in greeting to people who called out to him. But he kept moving. If there was anyway he could keep his condition from everyone then he was going to try. The boys would think he was just in a mood and would avoid him, not wanting to risk the wrath of angry Dean. Of course, if he bumped into Roman then it would fall apart. The man knew him too well to not notice that he was being unusually quiet.

Of course, the odds of bumping into his brother were slim. They'd been drifting for a while, both doing their own thing. The separate travel, different house shows and different places on the card had started taking their toll. He couldn't recall the last time that the two of them had hung out, let alone had a conversation that was more than just a hey or how are you as they passed each other at arena's. Had to have been before Wrestlemania, maybe even before that.

He stopped by the production and grabbed his papers. After he found his locker room, he dropped the script down on the bench and sank into the wood with a soundless sigh. His hands ran through his hair, fingers getting ensnared by the dirty blonde tangles of curls. But he didn't crack open his script yet. He needed to come up with a way to make whatever they had planned for him work with his current limitation.

Before he could, the locker room door opened and someone joined him inside. He lifted his head, expecting it to be Dolph, Sami or Cesaro, his usual room mates. Once he laid eyes on the person, his blood started to boil. Blue eyes narrowed as they settled on the last person he wanted to see at that moment.

"So, I guess we're roommates tonight huh?" Seth's tone was almost conversational.

Dean opened his mouth but remembered his current malady. Deciding against giving the scumbag anything he could use against him, he just rolled his eyes and grabbed his script, opening it up a little more violently than he needed to. His eyes skimmed over the pages as he tried to ignore the force of the stare he could feel against his skin.

"I didn't ask for this."

That went without saying. Rollins definitely wouldn't want to share a locker room with him. Actually, he wouldn't want to share a room with most of the boys anymore. He'd gotten used to having his own private one when he was the champ. But that was no longer his perk, it now belonged to Roman.

"Unless," The architect hedged for a second but then continued, "They want us to try to resolve our issues."

Blue eyes rolled again. Yeah, there was no way that sharing a locker room for one night was going to result in them hashing out two years of issues. A brawl, entirely possible. Stephanie was smart enough to know that, so wasn't Triple H. There was no way in hell that they'd risk throwing the two of them together and expect a positive outcome.

It was probably some new PA who didn't realize that the blood between them was as bad off screen as it was on screen. They'd learn from their mistake quickly. Especially if Seth kept talking and he ended up choking the smug ass-hat to get him to shut up.

"Don't you think it's time we let go of the past?"

His head snapped up at that, eyes narrowed. Lying bastard says what? Did he honestly believe that all it would take to settle their issues was some lame ass heart to heart? What the hell had he been doing in his free time while he was rehabbing his knee? Cause that sounded like some bullshit a shrink would come up with.

Seth sat down on the bench across from him, leaning his elbows on his knees. "There's no reason for us to continue this cycle of hatred."

Yup, Rollins had definitely been seeing a shrink.

Dean again cursed his lack of a voice. This was not fair. He wanted to laugh, mock the weasel for needing to get his head shrunk. But it would have to wait. Thankfully, Rollins was giving him material that he could use against the back-stabbing prick for a long time.

"We're not feuding and Roman dropped you once he won the belt back so you don't have to hate me on his behalf."

He really wanted to scream and remind the younger man that he didn't hate him because of Roman. That he hated him because he was a weak, sniveling, lying, cheating, backstabbing, ass kissing, cowardly piece of shit. He'd never made a secret of that. So how the hell could Rollins pretend any differently?

"There's no reason that we can't co-exist and be civil to one another, maybe even try to get back to being friends." Seth had the balls to smile at that. "You've got to have realized by now that everything that happened wasn't personal. That I did what I thought was best for all of us and it turned out that I was right."

His hands had curled into fists so tightly that his knuckles were a bloodless blur on the taut flesh.

Seth continued babbling on, apparently not realizing how close to dying he was. "I mean, yeah, you haven't won the championship yet but you've been so close so many times. That opportunity never would have presented itself if we let the Shield drag on longer than it did."

He was literally sitting on his hands now because if he didn't, he was going to knock the motherfucker into Smackdown tapings.

"You and I, our goal was always the same. Get to the top by any means necessary and don't let anyone knock you off without a hell of a fight." He had the nerve to laugh. "I have to admit I was worried when I saw that we were sharing space. But man, I can't tell you how good it feels to have you actually listening to me, not cutting me off for once and actually being reasonable about this."

Dean could feel his eye twitching.

"I know that there's things you have to say to me. So come on, open up and unburden yourself."

Yeah, he didn't have a voice but there was one thing he could do that would make his stance perfectly clear. He got to his feet and proceeded to give the traitor a dirty deeds. As he stared down at the fallen man, he felt a something he hadn't felt in a long time. A spark of energy and rightness that had been missing in mostly every feud he had since November. No matter what, it was good to see that their insane wrestling chemistry hadn't diminished at all during the time the sell out had been gone.

Dean leaned down, hoping the unconscious man could hear the faint raspy whisper that he was only capable of producing right then. "Welcome back Rollins."


	25. Stakeout

**Summary: This is the continuation of Jumpy, Paranoia, Tattle, Stolen, Questioning, Faceoff, Crazy and Counterattack.**

* * *

 _September 3, 2014_

Seth sat in his rental car, eyes locked onto the apartment across the lot. It looked exactly the same as it did they day he came with Dean to check it out. Clean, nondescript, low maintenance and located about a half an hour away from the Vegas strip. Small but nicely furnished, modern apartment inside. Not somewhere you'd expect a WWE superstar to live. But those weren't the only reason his former team mate had chosen to move into this complex. The close access to the desert and it's mountains were the main draw.

Dean would disappear into them for hours. He preferred the freedom of running, rock climbing and mountain biking to the confines of a gym. Not to mention the chance to escape and enjoy the peace the and quiet. There were several times where he confessed that being out there all alone was the only time when he could clear his head for a while. Sleep didn't even grant him that reprieve so he jumped at any opportunity that did.

It was a ritual to the dirty blonde now. One he took very seriously and didn't let anything deter it. Rare rain or stifling heat be damned. He got up, ate, showered and headed out into the desert. Or it had been before his head met cinderblocks at least. No one had seen or heard from him since the incident.

It was like he vanished into thin air.

That was why Seth had been sitting out there since he'd driven from the airport. He'd spent the last couple of weeks since the curb stomp heard around the world wondering if he'd succeeded in his mission. Because the fallout that he was expecting when he heard that Dean escaped the medics had never came to be. The only thing that would explain that was if the lunatic was too injured to retaliate.

He needed to see Dean with his own two eyes, to confirm that was the reason. But four hours into his stakeout and there was no sign of him. Not one blind had been pulled up in the apartment. The mail hadn't been checked. He hadn't even stepped out onto his balcony for a cigarette.

It didn't make sense. Ambrose wouldn't have been able to flee far in the condition he would have been in that night. Since RAW was in Vegas the night of the infamous curb stomp, the logical thing would have been for him to make the short trek from the arena to his house. But then again, logical and Dean Ambrose rarely ever occupied the same vicinity. For some reason, his instincts always led him to do what you'd least expect.

Especially if he was concussed.

Seth swallowed thickly. He had seen a copy of the medics initial report taken before Dean took off. Severe head and neck trauma. They had checked off MRI's and Cat scan's on the list of tests that the hospital needed to run. But of course, they had never gotten there for them to take place. So the exact extent of his injuries remained a mystery.

Ambrose probably preferred it that way. He'd always said that the less someone knew about how banged up you were, the better. They couldn't target what they didn't know about. So he made it a point to do everything in his power to downplay any injury he had. Even avoiding being seen by the medical staff if he could manage it, which most times he could.

Seth was pulled from his thoughts as something caught his eye. A delivery man was making his way up the steps of the apartment, two bags of food in his hand. The door opened but not enough for him to see who was behind it. Money and one bag of food exchanged hands then the delivery man looked right at the parking lot, straight at the car Seth was sitting in. He said something to the person behind the door and then headed toward the car with the other bag of food.

The delivery man gestured for him to roll down the window and thrust the bag toward his obviously surprised face. "It's already paid for."

He took the bag with shaking hands, "Uh, thanks."

"Have a good day sir." With that, the harried delivery guy walked away quickly.

When he opened the bag, he found a salad with grilled chicken, a water inside and a yogurt and fruit parfait nestled inside. He froze, eyes wide as he stared at the contents of the bag. That was his usual pre-show lunch. Had been ever since the days in FCW. Which meant that Dean had known all along that he had been sitting out there watching the house.

A chill ran down his spine.

How had Dean known that he was out there?

It made no sense. The car was a basic, black, boring rental. In no way stood out did it stand out from the other similar sedans currently in the lot. It was parked far enough away from the apartment that he wouldn't have been able to make out the driver easily. Especially since Seth had tucked his hair up into a baseball hat, had sunglasses on and was dressed in just a plain t-shirt and jeans.

His phone vibrated from the console and he picked it up to see a text waiting.

"U suck at stalking."

His heart hammered in his chest as another message came through.

"I don't."

He dropped the phone, blinking rapidly. Oh god. No, no, no. He'd been so wrong. The entire time that he thought he was the one doing the staking out, he was the one being watched.

Seth set the bag in the passenger seat, eyes sweeping around the parking lot. Where was he? How the hell had the crazy bastard gotten in and out of the house without being seen? His eyes drifted to the apartment building again and landed on the parking lot level adjacent garage door. It was a gray solid metal, no windows and completely closed, no way that it could have opened without him noticing it.

He was so caught up in trying to figure out how Dean had seen him, he never heard the backdoor of his car open. Never saw someone slip inside. Not until an arm slipped around his neck and pulled him back against the seat.


	26. Cookout

**_Summary: Felt like writing a little throwback so this will be more of the FCW days and feature a little Dean/Roman bonding._**

* * *

 _July 4th, 2011_

Dean sat in his car, staring at the modest one family house and gaggle of cars parked in front of him. He didn't know why he was actually there. Yeah, he had been invited. But it was probably just a pity invite. The kind that nice, decent people usually felt obligated to extend to the social outcasts so they could say that they did their good deed for the day.

The fact that he actually came said a lot about his current state of mind. He'd always been fine on his own. Usually, he preferred it. But after being in Florida for the last six weeks, he was starting to get lonely and missed his friends back home. So a chance to get out of his head for a while had initially appealed to him.

Now, not so much.

He should just start the engine and get the hell out of there. Go back to the hot, dump of an apartment that served as his current home and do his best to finish the case of beer that was currently sitting in the passenger seat. Yeah, he socialized with these people at work but that was it. They weren't friends really. Just co-workers that were all striving to do their best and get to the main roster.

Just as he was about to turn the key and get the hell out of there, Leakee appeared at his window. He reached in and clapped the dirty blonde on the shoulder. "Hey man, glad you came!"

Dean had to admit that he was a little bewildered by the warm welcome. It was like the other man didn't regret inviting him and didn't mind that he showed up. "Yeah, figured I'd drop by for a bit. But if you mind…"

"Why would I mind?" Now it was the big Samoan's turn to look confused. "I invited you cause I wanted you to come."

"I brought beer." His leg bounced, "But if it's not cool then I'll just leave it in the car."

A smile twisted the older man's lip as he went around to the passenger side and opened the door, grabbing the case from the seat. "It's cool man, you can never have too much beer."

That was finally a motto that he could get behind. He nodded, finally getting out of his car and following the other man up the driveway. Once he got to the yard, he froze. There was a hell of a lot of people. But none of them were the usual array of coworkers that he had been expecting. The people at this cookout looked to be members of the Samoan's family.

He didn't belong here.

The whole celebrating holidays with family thing was not something he had experience with. His family had been a train wreck. By the time he was fifteen, he was sleeping on the streets because it beat the hell out of staying in the project of horrors that the drunken, drugged out, prostitute that he was unlucky enough to call mom lived in. Holidays were not something that were special or celebrated in his life. They were bitched about, ignored or lowlights that he did his best to forget.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of Leakee's voice as he set down the case of beer on a table already loaded with alcohol. "Come on, I'll introduce you to my family. The other guys from work should be dropping by later on."

"Uh, ok." He followed dully behind the bigger man, his mind trying to come up with an excuse to leave as quickly as he could, as they headed over to a table where a large group of people sat.

His eyes widened as he recognized a few of the people at that table. Holy shit. Leakee was related to several former and current WWE wrestlers. How did he not know that? But he couldn't ever remember the other man mentioning it in the few conversations they had.

"Dean, this is my dad Sika, my uncle Afa, my aunts, my brother Rosie, my cousin Umaga, my cousins Jimmy and Jey, my sisters and my mother." He pointed out each other then turned toward the woman with a toddler perched on her lap. "This is my girlfriend and that beautiful little girl is my daughter."

The little girl stared at him wide-eyed before giving him a shy wave. Another thing he didn't know about Leakee. More proof that he really didn't belong here at all. But he could at least be as courteous as he could be while he was. "Hi, nice to meet you all."

The woman that he introduced as his mother gave him a soft, friendly smile. "You too sweetheart. Roman said that you just moved down here from Ohio. Florida must be an adjustment for you."

Who the hell was Roman? And why the hell was this person talking about him?

He flushed slightly, aware that the lady was looking at him and waiting for an answer, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "It was Philly actually. The company I was working for was based there. But yeah, it's a lot different than there."

Leakee once again clapped him on the shoulder, "I'm going to get him some food then I'll be back. Come on man."

"It was nice meeting you all." He nodded and gratefully followed. When they were far enough away, he let out a low whistle. "Wow, so you're wrestling royalty. How come you never said anything?"

"Because it's not important." The words were soft, sincere. "I'm going to get to the top because of who I am, not who I'm related to."

"Who's Roman?"

Leakee flushed, giving an embarrassed grin. "That would be me, Roman Reigns."

Dean rolled it around in his head then shook his head. "Why the hell would you use Leakee when your own name is so much better?"

"Because all anyone would have to do is run my name in a search engine and my family ties will pop up." He shrugged at the look he was given. "I told you, I want to make it on my own, without relying on my family name."

"It's cool as fuck though." Dean told him honestly. "And who cares who you're related to? Anyone who makes a big deal out of it is probably just jealous. You know, your family could probably tell some awesome stories from the road."

"Well my mom, aunts, dad and uncle will be heading out in a while. They're taking all the kids and going down to the beach for the festivities there. So unfortunately, you won't get to hear any today but I'm sure you will next time."

His head spun at that. Next time? So this wasn't a pity invite after all. They came to a stop in front of two tables covered in a feast that could feed a small country or an army. There were meats, rice, grilled vegetables, different types of pasta salads and regular salads, grilled pineapple and assorted other dishes that he had no idea what they were.

"Help yourself."

He just gaped at the buffet in front of him, "I have no idea where to start."

Roman threw back his head and laughed. "Just grab a plate and heap on whatever you want. It's all good. Everyone brought something with them and I've got to go get the grill fired up for the burgers and dogs. So eat up!"

Dean followed that advice as his host disappeared until there was no room left on the plate in his hands. Grabbing a beer, he headed over to an empty table and dug into his meal. It was good. Delicious even. He couldn't remember the last time that he had a home cooked meal and he wasn't sitting alone long before Roman and his cousins the Uso's joined him.

He didn't end up making an excuse to leave early. In fact, he stayed until the end and helped clean up. Ended up crashing on Roman's couch because the other man didn't want him driving when he had been drinking. He actually used the phrase "Friends don't let friends drive drunk". Surprisingly, he didn't argue about not being drunk or the fact that Roman had referred to them as friends.


	27. Anniversary

**Summary: Just a little something to remember the nasty anniversary of darkest day in a Shield's fan lives.**

* * *

 _June 2, 2016_

Dean sat on his couch, a barely touched beer dripping condensation onto his coffee table. But his mind wasn't on the cold one in front of him. It was torturing him a reminder he didn't want or need. Something that he wished he could forget. He'd given up wishing that it hadn't happened a long time ago, accepting the fact that it had but still not really understanding it.

Two years ago today, Seth destroyed the Shield.

Gleefully stabbed Roman and him in the back and torn apart the brotherhood they had built. Thrown away a friendship forged in the hell of developmental and strengthened by the trials of the main roster. With nothing more than the promise of a briefcase. Lured by the temptation of money and power, prestige and notoriety. For the chance to be called the man and to be the face of the company.

The thing that really twisted the proverbial knife in his back was that it had all worked out for him. Every promise became a reality. The sellout could boast and gloat about that fact and did every chance he got. Didn't matter that he hadn't really achieved those accolades by himself. That the authority and their minions had a giant hand in his so called success.

Because it just validated the excuses he had for decimating the Shield.

Seth didn't miss the good times, the laughter, the fact that there was always someone to listen. That scumbag sure as hell held no regret over what he had done. Didn't mourn the loss of the friendship. There was no ache for the companionship of his brothers that made him feel like he couldn't breathe. Feel the weight of loneliness bearing down on his shoulders every day.

Dean still did.

Didn't matter if it was two days or two years. That moment was still as raw and hurt as much as it did when it happened. It was always in the forefront of his mind., taunting him and refusing to let him push it away. Nagging at him until he felt like he needed to hit something or someone to make it go away. Whispering to him that the only way it would ever go away was to destroy Rollins.

Last year, he had Roman to help him through it. To distract him with stories of growing up with a family full of wrestling royalty. Tell stupid jokes that he fucked up the punch lines to. Keep him busy and focused. Give him a smack upside the head when he got stuck in his head, reliving the moment.

But ever since FastLane, things had changed.

Their paths had separated. But it hadn't only been on TV. Things had changed between them off-screen as well. Roman only associated with his blood relatives now a days, leaving Dean all alone to wonder what the hell happened and how come he wasn't good enough to hang out with anymore. Why it still felt like a betrayal even though it paled in comparison to the one that brought them closer together?

He thought that maybe, today of all days, that the Samoan would reach out. Tell him once again that the past was the past and you couldn't change it, but you could learn from it. That the best thing he could do was let it go and move on. Use it as motivation to get where he wanted to be. That the best revenge would be to beat the sellout at his own game and win the title.

But there hadn't been a phone call.

Not even a text.

His hand reached out blindly and snatched his phone off the cushion next to him. He looked at the screen again. There was nothing. Without any hesitation, he chucked it at the wall. The sound of it shattering and raining down onto the hardwood floor brought him a fleeting moment of satisfaction.

It passed quickly and was once again replaced with the ache in his chest.

Grabbing his beer, he gulped the rest of it down and got up to get another. But once he got into the kitchen, he not only grabbed the rest of the twelve pack but also a bottle of Jack too. He was going to drink until he was numb. That had gotten him through a huge portion of his life. Might as well use it one more time to get through the anniversary of the day that his life started falling apart.


	28. Rejection

**Author's Note: Just a little something that came to me.**

* * *

Dean sat in his locker room, wrapping his hands. It was the last Smackdown before the draft and subsequent roster split. The atmosphere in Moline had been weird all day and it was driving him crazy. People getting sentimental and shit, worried that they'd be separated from their travel buddies. But he wasn't one of them because he'd been traveling alone since Roman decided that he was too good to associate with him anymore.

While he'd miss goofing around with the guys he'd known since his days on the Indy scene, it was just the nature of the business. Wasn't the end of the world. He'd still see them at the pay-per-views or when they did Super-shows. So this roster split really wasn't a big deal for him. If anything, he'd have to admit, he was kinda looking forward to the possibility that he might be separated from his former brothers.

It would do him good to be removed from the memories that plagued him whenever they were near. They were tainted by betrayal and abandonment now. No longer something that made him smirk or laugh whenever one popped into his head. Now when one came to him, it caused an uncomfortable pain in his chest that didn't ease up until he removed himself from the situation that brought it on. That ache had almost threatened to consume him when he walked into catering earlier and spotted Roman and Seth sitting together at a table, chatting away like nothing had ever happened.

Like it was still the golden days.

It was just another knife to his already scarred back. The two people he had been stupid enough to trust and ended up betraying that trust were smiling and laughing together. He turned on his heel and left, deciding to wait until they were gone. If he stayed, watching them pretend that everything was all sunshine and rainbows, that they hadn't thrown everything away would have made him sick.

He shook off his thoughts and returned his focus to his hands. Then he blinked in confusion saw that while his mind was wandering, he had used a whole roll of tape. His right hand was completely covered and twice it's size. A groan left his mouth as he used his teeth to start pulling it off, mentally cursing himself for letting that shit distract him. It had been two years since Seth stabbed him in the back and a few months since Roman decided that being the guy meant more to him than years of brotherhood so he should be over it by now.

After all, everyone always left him. It had been the one constant throughout his life. He was a master of pretending that it didn't bother him. That it didn't sting every time someone decided that he was too much to deal with and walked out of his life. Used his dry, sarcastic sense of humor to cope with the latest bout of being rejected.

When his hand was finally free of the tape, he ran it through the tangled mass of curls on his head. He needed to stop. Right now. Before whoever his locker room buddies for the night got there. No one was allowed to know how deep some of his scars went and he was damn good at keeping up the carefully façade that he had cultivated over the years.

Just as he thought that, the door opened and footsteps echoed through the quiet room. He looked up, his usual devil may care smirk in place, ready to greet Sami or Antonio like he always did. But it quickly falter as blue eyes landed on the person that was casually leaning with his shoulder propped against the wall. "Security must be ribbing you man cause this ain't your private locker room."

Roman studied him for a second, a little surprised at being so casually dismissed. "I came to see you."

"Why?" There was no heat in the question but no curiosity either.

"Seth's having some people back to his place after the tapings. Sort of like a last blast since none of us know where we'll be come Monday." He paused for a second. "He was hoping to see you but you didn't show up in catering so he asked me to invite you. Want to ride there together for old times sake?"

He returned his focus to taping up his hands. "Nah, I'm not going."

"You're not?" The surprise in that voice couldn't be masked. "Why not?"

"Cause I don't wanna."

The other man took a deep breath and tried to get him to change his mind. "We could get split up by this draft."

Dean rolled his eyes, annoyed by him trying to play on nostalgia. "In case you haven't noticed, we've all been split for a long time."

"Isn't it time to let go of the past, move on and try to fix everything? To get back to being the friends we once were?" Roman was trying to appeal to him logically. "Seth's hoping you'll be there. He really wants the chance to repair things between the two of you and I want you to go too because I think it would be good for you. This might be the last time that the three of us see each other outside of working pay-per-views once a month."

"Not interested."

"I get it," Gray eyes rolled. "You're being stubborn. So what'll it take for me to convince you to come?"

"There's nothing you can offer cause I'm not changing my mind." He shrugged unapologetically at the crestfallen look on the older Samoan's face. "I don't wanna go, so I'm not."

"Why?"

He scoffed, "I know everyone's all worked up about this split, scared they won't be with their friends anymore but I ain't. I'm looking forward to it. Gives me the chance to be on my own, away from anything Shield related."

"You're serious?"

"Yup," He didn't bother to spare his former brother a glance, "As a heart attack."

"What's gotten into you?" Roman pressed. "I haven't seen you like this since you first showed up in FCW and you kept your distance from everyone."

Dean sighed, really wanting this whole thing to end. "Listen, I'm not going to change my mind. I ain't going to this little get together. After the show ends, I'm on a plane back to Vegas. There's no point in continuing this conversation."

"So that's it?" There was a note of disbelief. "We're just going back to how it was in the beginning? Nothing but co-workers? Not brothers? Not even friends?"

"That's how it been for a while." He finished taping his hands and drove a fist into each palm, flattening it down. "No need to pretend otherwise."

"I can't believe this." Roman was literally gaping at him, like he didn't understand why this was happening.

He stood up and grabbed his newest hoodie, pulling it on with deliberate nonchalance. His stomach was rumbling since he had decided to skip catering when he saw Roman and Seth together. That meant that he really needed to eat something now or else he'd have to wait until after the show. Plus he needed to get the hell away from the man who claimed that family came first, insisted that they'd always be brothers then dropped him like a bad habit as soon as he reached the top.

"Believe that." With that parting shot, Dean walked out of the room and didn't bother to look back.


	29. Rebuild

**Summary: Follow up to Rejection**

* * *

Blowing out his knee had turned out to have been a blessing in disguise for Seth. While he was rehabbing from surgery, it gave him a lot of time to think about things. Like the way that having that title had changed him. How it skewed his perspective. That he did become a little too close in reality to the character he was portraying onscreen.

The thought that stuck in his mind the most was that he really had betrayed Roman and Dean when the shield broke up. Vince and Triple H just told them that they were breaking up the trio in a meeting an hour before RAW started. Never told them that it would be Seth would committed the fateful act and he kept his mouth shut about it. When he was informed about it, right before the Payback PPV, they told him that they wanted the reactions to be real. To really sell the moment for all it was worth because this was the moment that was going to jumpstart their singles careers.

In hindsight, he should have told them. If he couldn't bring himself to say the words then he should've have dropped a hint. Sent a text to Roman so he could tell Dean. Wrote a letter. Something other than just keep his mouth closed like a good little company soldier.

That moment had changed everything between them. It destroyed the trust, shattered the brotherhood they had built. Then they weren't given the courtesy of hearing the nasty and very personal promo's being written for him before they aired on live TV. Again, he didn't have the guts to go against company orders and warn them. That had caused the friendship to break apart completely.

What got to him most was knowing that if the situations were reversed, either one of them would've given him a heads up. The approach would have been different of course. Roman would have taken them out to breakfast or lunch, broken the news quietly and apologized. Dean would have just flat out said it once he was back in the locker room right after the meeting at Payback. But they'd feel that they owed it to the two remaining members to be honest about what was happening.

So while he was sitting at home redesigning and rebuilding so he could reclaim what was his, he decided that he wanted to redesign himself. Go back to the Seth that he'd been before that title twisted him into someone that he wasn't proud to have become. That meant making amends to Roman and Dean. Repair the tattered remains of their friendship and hope that one day, they could get back the brotherhood they lost. It wouldn't be easy, a lot of damage had been done but he was determined.

He started with Roman because he knew that would be easier because he hadn't taken it as personally as Dean had. Starting slow, he sent a few text messages. When they were returned, he decided to chance a call. It felt so good to hear the Samoan's familiar voice and not have it be disgusted with him for the first time in a long time. The calls and text became a running thing and he enjoyed every second of the friendly banter and the inevitable teasing that peppered their communications.

Reaching out to Dean proved more difficult.

He apparently had changed his cell phone number right after the chair shot heard around the world and none of the friends they had in common would dare break the lunatic's trust by giving it to him. He decided to send him a card for his birthday, hoping that he'd be receptive to the gesture. His hopes were dashed when the card came back with return to sender scrawled across the envelope in Dean's handwriting. So he decided to wait until he was in town for Wrestlemania weekend to try to do it face to face. But every time they got near one another the dirty blonde had glared at him with so much hatred that he lost his nerve.

Somehow their paths hadn't crossed since his return. When he asked around, he found out that Dean would get ready early then disappear from the locker room until his match was over. That sent a thrill of alarm through him. Because that behavior wasn't anything new. In fact, it dated back to the FCW days. But it had been a long time since he employed that strategy and it never meant anything good.

It was a warning, telling them that he was in no mood to deal with people.

Roman couldn't shed any light on why Dean had reverted. In fact, he informed him that they really didn't talk or hangout much at all anymore. He said that something had happened to the eccentric man during his feud's with Brock and then Jericho. That he had gone back to that sick, twisted, vicious mindset that terrified him. So he distanced himself because he was worried that Dean would snap and lash out at everyone close to him.

Seth was disappointed but he chose to stay out of it. He didn't want to overstep the boundaries and try to force them to talk. So he took one last shot at mending fences with Dean by extending the invitation to come to his house after the last Smackdown taping before the draft. Well, technically he actually had to have Roman extend the invite because it seemed like Dean was going out of his way to avoid him. But he had really hoped that his former brother would accept and show up, at least hear him out.

It was a naïve hope that crumbled when Roman told him that Dean wasn't coming. That he wouldn't even consider showing up or listen to reason. He saw the pain in the older man's eyes as he told him the rest of the things that dirty blonde had gotten off his chest. That he hoped they were split up once and for all. He wanted to distance himself from all things Shield.

Dean had pretty much said that they weren't anything anymore and that he didn't want to fix it.

That stung at first.

The more time Seth had to process it, the more confused he got. It just didn't ring true. Because it wasn't like Dean to just let things go. He was stubborn, too damn stubborn at times. Never liked to leave things unsettled. Refused to give up without one hell of a fight and no one knew that better than him.

Especially when it came to the select few people that Dean allowed himself to care about.

That meant that he was saying whatever he had to in order to drive them away. If he kept them at arms length then they couldn't get close enough to see the chinks in his armor. The chinks that would allow them to see that he was tired of being hurt or forgotten. Of being treated like he was lesser than them because he hadn't been allowed to accomplish as much as they had. That it was easier to deal with everything by slipping back into his old fail safe mode of being the loner that people avoided than dealing with everything else.

Too bad that Seth refused to throw in the towel. He determined to make amends with his reluctant brother. Maybe they'd never be as close as they once were. That was something that he could accept because it was his actions and inaction that caused the rift. As long as Dean no longer stared at him like he was the scum of the earth and he wanted him dead, it would be an improvement.

It would take time to rebuild the friendship but he had been granted it.

On Monday, Dean's wish went unfulfilled and Seth's prayers had been answered.

They weren't separated. All of them had been drafted to RAW. Because even though it terrified the powers that be, they knew that they needed to keep them together on the same show. That whether they were a trio of injustice fighting hounds or the most bitter enemies, their dynamic was off the charts. Only an idiot would approve splitting them up for real by placing them on separate shows.

If they did that, how were they ever going to get the triple threat they coveted since the break up of the Shield?


	30. Regret

**Summary: Follow up to Rejection and Rebuild**

* * *

Roman sat in his private locker room, staring down at the belt clasped between his hands. He wasn't paying attention to Jimmy or Jey who were animatedly talking about their upcoming match. Wasn't thinking about his own match. His mind wasn't steeling itself for the onslaught of boos he'd face the second his music hit. It was fixated on Seth and Dean, all the things that had happened lately.

It felt good to reconcile with Seth. To finally be able to sit down and hash out their differences. Go over the mistakes made in the past and get everything out in the open. He had missed the younger man's calm, rational thoughts and his infectious laughter. Hated the fact that something as trivial as the drive for championship success had wrenched them apart.

They weren't back to where they once were yet. He was still cautious about things. Still felt the sting of betrayal sometimes when he looked at the architect. They were working on it though. Doing their best to lay the past to rest and regain what was lost.

But another part of him felt guilty to be making amends with Seth.

Because his own doubts and fears had allowed him to push Dean away.

He hadn't lied when he said that something had changed in Dean and it scared him. It still did. Dean's behavior was eerily reminiscent of when he first showed up down in FCW. But if he was honest with himself, he had started distancing himself before that. The day after the triple threat at Fastlane to be exact.

That night he stood in the ring victorious, the heir to the throne, after pinning his best friend. The hatred rained down on him just like it had since the Royal Rumble. But that was nothing new. Unfortunately, despite the company's blind belief that he was the top baby face, the fans hated him. They had cheered like hell when Brock suplexed him and those cheers hadn't gotten even louder when Dean took a steel chair and unloaded on him.

It bothered him a lot more than it should. Because it proved to him that no matter how hard the company tried, he was never going to be accepted as the top baby face. That position was already taken. Dean owned that spot and short of him leaving the company, it didn't look like anything was going to change that. The fans were in love with his talent and charisma, enchanted with the every gravelly word that fell from his mouth and could easily get behind his insane refusal to give up and stay down.

The company had decided that they wouldn't appear on-screen together as much anymore. That maybe if they kept them apart that the audience response to Roman would improve somewhat. But it didn't. If anything, it only got worse. It got so bad that even when Triple H attacked him, they cheered him and begged him to deliver another pedigree onto the stairs.

But when Triple H attacked Dean a week later, he was booed like the heel he was supposed to be. That was when Roman had started putting distance between the two of them off-screen. Because he hated to admit it but he was jealous of the other man's ability to stay over with the fans. To get people invested in him and keep them invested. That they would prefer Dean as their champion, not him.

He really thought that they might decide to let the dirty blonde win the belt at Roadblock because of it.

Dean had gone into the match focused with a damn good game plan. He pinned Triple H. Gotten a three count. The fans went crazy. But it was quickly waved off with the bullshit excuse that his foot had been under the rope.

That seemed to snap the last restraint Dean had on his dark side. He went back to feuding with Brock and allowed his most violent instincts to bubble to the surface. Lost himself in the brutality of it. Amassed quite the weapon collection in anticipation of their match being a blood bath at Mania. Started slowly slipping back into the antisocial behavior he exhibited when he first showed up in the company.

That was when Roman panicked and pretty much cut all contact.

He had heard about that side of Dean, it had been whispered about ever since news of his signing broke. But he never saw it first hand and didn't look up videos of Jon Moxley to prepare himself. To be honest, he didn't want to get to close to that side of his brother. The man was unpredictable enough when he had it under control. When it was unleashed, no one was safe from the anger or need for destruction that raged in his mind.

Which scared the hell out of him.

He'd lost one brother to his darker impulses already. Having another brother decide to stab him in the back as a way to the top didn't appeal to him. Because he knew that if he was the target of Dean's obsessive streak, he wouldn't be satisfied with just chair shots to make a statement. Not at all. The man wouldn't stop until he had done some serious damage to the future world champion.

Roman had made the choice to let them go their separate ways. Do their own thing. No teaming up, hanging out or random calls and texts. They really didn't even see each other around the arena anymore. Didn't bump into each other in catering or at gas stations after shows as they made their way to the next arena.

He never thought that things were really done between them, figured that they'd bounce back. They had traveled separate paths before and came back together as strong as they were. But the night he extended that invitation to Seth's house, he saw how foolish he had been in his assumption. Dean had made it clear that he didn't want to be around either of them, that he was just done with all of it. That he no longer considered them brothers or friends.

It felt like someone punched him right in the chest.

When he called Dean his brother, that wasn't a lie or petty lip service. It was how he felt in his heart and his mind. They'd gone through the hell of developmental and then through main roster wars together. Always had each other's back in and out of the ring. Been there for each other through the good and bad, injuries and being stuck working crappy angles.

He really had no one to blame but himself.

Roman was the one who had given into his own stupid doubts and fears and pushed the younger man too far away. Taken a relationship that meant so much to him and tossed it aside. Gotten so caught up in being the champion and everything that came along with it. Forgotten that he wouldn't have gotten there without having a brother who supported and encouraged him during the tough times.

Now it was up to him to take the first step in fixing it.


	31. Ambush

**Summary: Follow up to Rejection, Rebuild and Regret**

* * *

Seth shifted in the uncomfortable airport chair, hat pulled low and his hair hidden beneath it in hopes that the few late night travelers around them wouldn't notice him. That wasn't the real source of his agitation though. He didn't know how he let Roman talk him into this. At the time the big man suggested it, it sounded like a good idea. But after a week of thinking over this plan nonstop, he was second guessing it like crazy.

"Relax." The Samoan's deep baritone insisted quietly. "This is going to work."

He wished he felt as confident about as the older man did. In theory it was a great idea. One that could accomplish what they wanted. In reality though, the main obstacle would not be an easy one to get around. Not at all. It was going to be a fraught with peril with a lot of highs and lows.

They were going to show up, unannounced, at Dean's apartment in Las Vegas. After he basically said that he was done and had hoped to be moved to whatever show they weren't on. Even a couple of weeks later, and being stuck on the same show, he'd shown no sign of going back on his word. He'd gotten damn good at making himself scarce at the arena. The only time they saw him was when he emerged from the curtain and in the ring for his match.

Seth was afraid of his reaction when he found them on his doorstep. He was really hoping that Dean didn't have his nunchuks handy. Ever since he saw that the dirty blonde knew how to use them, it had become something vowed to stay as far away from as humanly possible. Oh and the throwing stars. He really hoped that Dean had gotten rid of those damn things because the flashbacks he'd get…

"Everything will be fine." The Samoan stated flatly, the sound of his usually soothing voice breaking through his thoughts. "Just get out of your head and trust me."

That was easier said than done, "How can you be so sure man?"

"Because I believe that."

Brown eyes frantically darted around the airport, hoping that no one had heard his traveling companion spout his damn catchphrase. Thankfully, they hadn't attracted any attention. He let out a breath he had been holding and shook his head. "Can you not say that? I'm on edge already and really not in the mood to get mobbed. Not to mention the pandemonium it'd cause if we were seen together considering we're supposed to hate each other's guts."

"You're way too tense." He chuckled with a shake of his head. "Gonna give yourself a damn panic attack before we even board."

Another thought occurred to him and his eyes widened in worry, "What if he's on the same flight?"

"He won't be."

"You can't be sure of that." While he hated being the practical one, sometimes he ready needed to play the role. "It's not like he shares his travel plans with you now-a-days."

"First of all, I saw him leave right after his match." Roman's confidence didn't waver in face of the logic presented to him. "Secondly, he doesn't fly this airline because he had a bad experience and swore them off."

He blinked, not liking the sound of that. "Define bad experience?"

"Flight was delayed a couple of hours due to a mechanical issue and when they finally let the passengers board, he found out that they didn't serve alcohol or food on flights that were only three hours or less in duration. Pissed him off but good."

"Ok," The words were slow but somewhat relieved. "But how do we know that he's going right home after he leaves the airport? Knowing Dean, he might decide to stop off at a bar."

"That's why we're not going to his apartment until tomorrow morning."

And cue his anxiety spiking again, "What?"

"Yeah, wouldn't surprise me that he'd probably stop off tonight. Dealing with drunk Dean when he's in a bad mood is pretty damn impossible. I mean, he's stubborn on a good day but he's impossible when he's been drinking." Roman gave an indifferent shrug and gave a slight grin. "So I figured it would make more sense to go in the morning."

"Uh, hung-over Dean isn't exactly a walk in the park." His voice cracked slightly, remembering some less than pleasant mornings spent on the road when the middle brother of the shield had drank too much the previous night. "In case you forgot, he once threatened to cut out my tongue because he felt that I was talking too loud."

For some reason, that made his partner in this caper laugh. He glared at the jovial man and huffed in annoyance, "What's so funny about that?"

"I remember your face when it happened!" Roman got out around his guffaws. "I never knew that you could turn that white! Thought you were gonna pass out."

"And to think, I stopped him from smothering you when your snoring woke him the morning after he had the brilliant idea to go shot for shot with Sheamus and Wade."

That caused the other man's laughter to choke off, "He was going to do what?"

"Yup, I woke up and he was standing over your bed with a pillow in his hands until I grabbed it away from him." He smirked. "I stopped the retaliation by hitting you with it instead to wake you up."

He shrugged tiredly, "It was the deviated septum's fault."

"Good thing you got that fixed." Brown eyes rolled, "So now that we've established that hung-over Dean might not be so happy to see us…"

"I'm sure he won't be at first. Usually takes him a while to warm up."

"Great, so most likely, he's going to answer his doorbell with a baseball bat in hand. Take a few cracks at us with it before the joy engulfs him."

Roman arched an eyebrow. "Why would we ring the bell when I have his spare key?"

"You kidding?" Seth wondered if the other man lost his mind. "Dean wakes up and people are in his apartment when he wasn't expecting them. What do you think is going to happen in that situation?"

"We'll bring breakfast, he'll be fine."

He was really starting to wonder if Roman really forgave him or if this whole thing was some elaborate scheme to get his trust, take him to Dean as a peace offering and bury him somewhere in the desert. Or maybe it was a double suicide mission and he didn't plan on either one of them coming back from it? Because both of those possibilities made more sense than what was being proposed.

Just as he was about to ask, the intercom cut him off.

"Flight 419 to McCarran International Airport is now boarding."

Roman grinned broadly and clapped him on the shoulder, "That's us, let's roll."

Seth reluctantly got up from his seat and followed behind. He had a bad feeling that this little ambush that Roman was planning was going to blow up in their faces. But he was committed to making amends with Dean. That meant pushing aside his doubts and fears an going through with Roman's plan. Hopefully, they'd live through it to tell the tale of reclaimed brotherhood.


	32. Ambush 2

**Summary: The continuation of Ambush**

* * *

Roman cast another glance over at the passenger seat and the huddled mass that resided in it as they sat in the parking lot of Dean's apartment complex. It made no sense why the high flyer was so nervous about this. They used to spend a lot of time at each other's homes. Stayed over when they had a show in their town. Hell, they even helped Dean pick out the apartment he lived in.

With a sigh, he turned his attention to the curled up man. "You need to calm down."

"I can't." Seth lifted his head, fear evident in his face. "I just keep thinking about the fact that he won't want us here. That once he wakes up and sees who's in his house, he might walk out the door or grab those damn throwing stars and not miss on purpose this time."

He understood that fear because he felt it too, well not the throwing stars part because he had never experienced that. But the fact that the younger man was willing to vocalize it made it easier for him to keep his own worries about this forced reunion at bay. To focus on the familiar role of calm, cool, collected older brother. A role that, to his own surprise, he really missed playing over the last several months. "No way that's gonna happen. I'll tackle him before he makes it to the door or the second his hand makes a move toward them."

"Just like the good old days." The architect chuckled, shaking his head slightly. His eyes went to the apartment across the lot and he sighed. "Ok man, let's do this. But I just want you to remember that we're violating his golden rule."

Dean's golden rule was don't contact him before noon when he was off cause he would probably be sleeping. While it sounded like something a petulant teenager would say, the eccentric man suffered from severe bouts of insomnia. Sometimes it was so bad that he went days without sleep. Other times, he didn't manage to finally crash until six in the morning. Then there were the times when he'd suffice with ten or fifteen minute naps throughout the day.

But if they adhered to that then they'd lose the element of surprise. To make this work, they needed that. Because if Dean saw them coming, this would fall apart before it even began. He got out of the car and grabbed the bag of food from the dirty blonde's favorite diner out of the backseat. Squaring his shoulders, he started across the lot as his free hand went into his pocket and pulled out the spare key to the apartment.

Seth followed behind, his footsteps slower than normal. "What if he's not home?"

"Then we kick back, crank the central air, eat our breakfast and watch TV until he drags his ass home." He answered flatly as he made his way up the stairs, mentally cursing the heat. Had to be over eighty already and it was only eight fifty-five in the morning. While it lacked the sticky humidity of Florida, it was a hell of a lot hotter.

"He finally bought one?"

"Oh it took some persuading but he gave in." Roman grinned as he put the key into the lock. It opened easily and he stepped to the wall to left of the door, punching in the security code on the alarm pad before it could go off. "Dean trying to use a smart TV is a popcorn worthy event."

With that, he headed over the long marble counter that separated the living room from the kitchen and set the bag down. He removed the containers from it and set them out. The simple task brought back a flood of memories. Conversations about owning the business and being the best faction ever over eggs and bacon. Laughter at stupid jokes or embarrassing situations that had happened on the road or during a show through mouthfuls of pancakes.

"What do you want me to do?" Seth asked, his posture still tense.

He pushed away the melancholy that was threatening to overwhelm him. "You can get the coffee started."

The sound of cabinets opening and closing quiet helped to cut the intense silence of the apartment. Roman grabbed some plates and silverware and started dishing out the food, making sure that they all had more than enough, losing himself in the familiar task.

"Uh Roman?"

"Yeah?"

"How the hell do you work this thing?" The architect gestured at the ancient coffee maker perched in the corner.

He frowned, stopping when he was next to his brother. Apparently Dean hadn't overcome his love of yard sales or thrift stores because that's the only place a relic like that could have come from. It had to be from the eighties or possibly even the late seventies, the buttons all worn down so that the writing on them was gone. "I think a better question is, does it even work?"

They stood there staring at it like it would tell them the answer to their questions. But it mocked them with it's silence.

After a minute of their stare-down with an inanimate object, Seth sighed and threw up his hands in a typical sign of defeat. "Screw it, he can make the coffee when he gets up."

Roman nodded, not wanting to owe Dean a new coffeemaker. "Speaking of which, you ready?"

"I don't know." He admitted quietly. "Memories of the first time I did that are taunting me. The damn bruise on my ribs took weeks to go away."

A chuckle left the Samoan's mouth as he recalled the memory. It had been early in their partnership and they were still feeling each other out. But one thing that he had garnered from his conversations with the dirty blonde was that his insomnia was partly due to his past and the fact that sleep really hadn't been something that made him feel safe. The high flyer of the group had refused to listen to reason and tried to shake Dean back into the land of the living. Which resulted in him being booted halfway across the room and a crazy-eyed wildcard of the Shield jolting awake, ready for a fight.

His eyes drifted to the closed bedroom door. Yeah, this was not going to be fun. But they had no other choice. Breakfast didn't reheat well. So they couldn't sit here until noon, just waiting for their wayward brother to finally drag his ass out of bed.

"Just remember the rules of poking a hibernating bear." Roman asserted. "Rule number one: creep up slowly and quietly. Sudden, unexplained noises may wake it before you're prepared."

Seth nodded solemnly as they neared the bedroom door. "Remember, I move like a ninja. No one hears me until it's too late."

"Rule number two: Once you've poked said bear and gotten even the slightest reaction, get as far away from the provoked beast as you can or it will maul you."

The architect gripped the bigger man's shoulder as he eased the door open and a hibernating lump beneath the covers became visible to their eyes. "I learned that lesson the hard way. Trust me, it's burned into my brain."

"Rule number 3: If it gives chase, run to a source of food so that the bear will have other things to tempt it's appetite with other than you." He whispered as they approached the bed.

There was a soft whimper of agreement from the youngest member of the trio as he tightened his hold on the oldest.

"Rule four: Never let your guard down until you're positive that the beast is no longer after you."

With that last commandment, Roman decided that it was time to do what they had come to do. He yelled out a booming "HEY!", snapped his fingers loudly and jumped back, almost knocking Seth over in the process. The figure on the bed lashed out; his foot aiming for the spot where the voice had come from and sat up, fists cocked and ready.

The lunatic had awoken.


	33. RAW

**Summary: Just a little something based on the Shield get together on the Ambrose Asylum last night.**

* * *

From the moment they informed him about the return of the Ambrose Asylum and the "special guests" that were going to be in the segment with him, Dean had been dreading it. He didn't want to be stuck in the ring with them. They had betrayed his trust and dropped him on their way to the top without hesitation. He didn't want to be bombarded with the memories of better days as he was forced to interact with them. Hated that no matter what they did or accomplished that the company insisted on always tossing them back into each other's orbit.

It really ticked him off but he had no choice but to keep his mouth shut and do the damn thing. If he wanted a shot at actually winning the Money in the Bank Ladder Match on Sunday, then he couldn't say no to the segment. Turning it down would pretty much guarantee him a spot on Main Event, jobbing to Zack Ryder, Heath Slater and Jack Swagger for the rest of his contract. Don't get him wrong, all those guys were guys that were capable of having great matches. They just weren't the guys you wanted to be stuck feuding with if you had aspirations of being the Champion someday.

Which he did.

Although, he had to admit that his aspirations had started to wane slightly. Because there were only so many times that you could have that chance dangled in front of you then snatched away before you started doubting that it would ever happen. He lost count of how many times that he was so close to his dream only to have it yanked away because of whatever lame reason they came up with. It started a few months after the Shield debuted when for some reason he was never really clear on, the powers that be decided that he was no longer the guy they saw as the singles star of the trio. That focused shifted to Roman then Seth and then back to Roman but never back to him.

It had stayed that way ever since. Oh sure, when someone was injured or the fans had grown bored with the same old same old, they would drop him in the main event scene. Tease that they were finally thinking about pulling the trigger on really pushing him. But that's all it was, a tease. As soon as whoever he was filling in for was cleared or the ratings climbed a little higher then he was shuffled back to the crowded mid-card and go nowhere feuds that had very little payoff.

He shook his head and tried to focus himself on the task at hand tonight. Getting through this damn segment without getting emotional was what he wanted. It was important that he stay cool, calm and collected. That he didn't let anything said in that ring affect him personally at all. Just get through it and then move onto his match with Jericho and the brawl that would break out between the MITB competitors. Because being the one to win that briefcase would give him back a sense of power, a feeling that he was more than a temporary replacement.

When it was time to do the segment, he ignored both Roman and Seth in the gorilla position, pretending to be in the zone. His music hit and he strutted out, head high, smirking and with the confidence he was known for. He introduced Seth as the scum of the earth and forced a one armed hug on the confused man while Roman got a firm but impersonal handshake. Until it was time for it to get serious, he played the instigating funny man to the hilt. Amped up reactions, making sure that neither of them forgot that he was there when they got into a stare-down and cracking jokes when the segment lagged a little.

Then Seth improvised and took them on a stroll down memory lane. He wasn't supposed to give examples of the good times, just admit that they did exist before crushing the crowd by saying his favorite one was when he stabbed them in the back. Bastard even had the nerve to throw in an off-screen moment. Roman decided to be just as big of a prick and clarified where said moment took place. That had gotten to him but he forced himself not to show it by pretending that he didn't remember that night in Albuquerque.

But he did.

It was fuzzy but he could recall enough of it to make it hurt. Drinking way too much. Going outside for a cigarette and leaning against the dumpster. Then he must of dozed off because the next thing he remembered was Seth frantically tapping his face, telling him to wake up then asking him if he was alright. Roman carrying his drunk ass back to the car. Both of them taking care of him when they got back to the hotel room they shared because crappy late night food and tequila did not mix well at all.

It pissed him off that they'd use that memory and he realized that the bastards must have discussed it among themselves. As a result, he made sure to put a little extra on his punches to Seth and that dirty deeds that he planted Roman with. Because fuck them. Fuck them for betraying him and forgetting him. For making him trust them then shattering that in their quests for the title and everything that came with it.

Just one more knife and scar to his already riddled back.

In the early days after the implosion of the shield, he would trash everything in his path as he made his way to the back. But tonight, he made it back to the locker room without smashing his fist into something or knocking anything over. Guess that's what two years of being fucked over did to you. Made you better at not letting people see how much they hurt you. How much damage their callous actions had really done to your scarred psyche and your broken heart.

He really hoped that he won that damn briefcase.

If he did, he would cash in on their asses without hesitation. Drive both of them into the mat and win that title. Or maybe it would be sweeter to beat them with a chair? All that mattered was that he got himself into that feud so he could finally get the revenge that he so richly deserved. And there was no better revenge than taking that coveted title away from them and putting it around his waist as they were flat on their back, looking up at the ceiling of the arena with the crowd's cheers ringing in their ears.


	34. Ambush 3

**Summary: Obviously this follows Ambush 1 and 2.**

* * *

The booming "HEY!" followed by the click of fingers pulled him from his sleep. His barely conscious mind screamed at him that it didn't belong . He lived alone and didn't have anyone staying at his place. That meant that the voice belonged to an intruder. Dean's well honed fight or flight instincts took over, choosing fight as usual and he lashed out, kicking toward the sound.

It didn't make contact with anything solid so he sat up, fists curled and ready to do some damage to the unlucky son a bitch who thought it was a good idea to break into his house. His sleep blurred eyes finally focused and landed on the culprit. Or rather culprits since there were two people who had the audacity to be standing in his home at this point in time. They didn't belong there, not anymore. Those days were long gone, just another bittersweet memory in a long list of them.

Cold blue eyes narrowed as they settled on the two men standing by his bedroom door, his left hand stealthily creeping toward his nightstand where he kept a little something to deal with situations like this. Roman's grin wavered slightly, one eyebrow raised in question at the less than welcoming response they were receiving. Seth looked like he was either going to throw up or bolt or maybe some combination of the two. But neither one of them was really paying attention to his movements which gave him the perfect opportunity. His hand grasped the object and let it fly, aiming for the miniscule space between them.

He calmly watched as it flew toward his former brothers, head tilted slightly. Either he was a little rusty or his aim may have been a little off. It seemed to be careening straight for Roman. Oh well. Sometimes those were just the breaks.

"Oh fuck no, not again!" Seth yelled as he saw the throwing star hurtling toward them and knocked the seemingly frozen Samoan to the ground. His eyes closed as he heard the unmistakable sound of metal lodging into the door, a shudder going through his body at the all too familiar scenario.

Roman lifted his head, eyes wide and staring in disbelief at the disheveled dirty blonde whose face showed no trace of regret or remorse for what he had just done. "What the hell man? It's us! Roman and Seth!"

"I know." The gravelly voice intoned emotionlessly before tossing another star into the floor right in front of the cowering duo.

"Would you stop that?" The eldest member pleaded, covering his head as another star flashed right over his head. "I know it's not noon yet but damn man, you didn't need to do that."

Dean stood with a huff and grabbed the baseball bat he kept stashed beside the nightstand. He didn't plan on using it but he figured that they didn't know that. "Get up."

The unwanted duo got to their feet, eyes betraying their unease at the sight of him with the bat. Good. They should be nervous. He pointed the end of the bat toward the door and made his tone as cold as possible. "Now get out."

"Dean," Roman began in full big brother mode. Posture drawn perfectly straight to his full, impressive stature and his voice stern. Classic don't mess with me because I'm the older brother attitude radiating from him.

Too bad he wasn't in the mood to care. With a sigh, he swung the bat in their direction, making them jump back in surprise. "Nope."

Seth was backing out of the room, holding his hands up in surrender. "Rome, I think we should do what he wants."

"Listen to the whiny, spineless, traitorous, backstabbing, scum of the earth weasel." The bat cut through the air again, driving the big Samoan from the bedroom and following them out into the living room. Every pointed swipe at the air close to them brought them closer to the front door. "You take his advice and no one gets hurt."

Roman arched an eyebrow but stopped his retreat. He blinked, not quite understanding why they were being threatened. "You're actually thinking about hitting your brothers with a bat?"

Dean had no intention of hitting anyone but now that the oldest of the three dared to play that card, he really had the urge to bury the bat in his ribs. Maybe then he'd understand that he meant it when he said they weren't brothers or friends anymore. He'd had his fill of being lied to and tossed aside when something better came along. "Not if you just keep going out the front door and don't look back."

A frustrated growl bubbled from Roman, "Dean, would you just calm down and listen to us?"

"I'm calm." That wasn't a lie.

"Ok, then stop acting like an irrational lunatic or whatever you want to call it."

Seth's eyes widened, "Ro, what the hell? I'm ninety-nine percent positive that what you're doing breaks all the rules we talked about earlier!"

"Well sometimes, you got to throw the rules out the window and just get down to brass tacks." The elder statesman of the group explained and locked eyes with the him. "I get it man. We fucked up and you have every right to be pissed at us. But we're here and we want to fix things."

The words sounded so sincere and his expression was so contrite. But it just served to make the wall Dean had built since being dismissed by them grow higher. Because there was no way to fix this, no way to take away the hurt he felt. Wouldn't answer or erase the question of why it was so easy for everyone that was supposed to care about him to leave him without any hesitation. Didn't help the sting of knowing that the second they grew tired of him or something better came along, that they'd drop him again in a heartbeat.

The only way to stop this was to hurt them. Make them feel as unwanted and replaceable as he did. And it would be easy for him. He'd been a top heel for most of his career and knew how to phrase things so that they'd cut as deep as possible. How to make them so memorably cruel that every time they looked at him, they'd be able to recall it in vivid detail.

He laughed, loudly and coldly. Pinning his gaze on Roman, he made sure to keep his expression blank. "I'm not pissed and I could care less about fixing things. The truth is, I prefer not having to deal with either one of you. Seth and his constant need to be the center of attention. You and your whining about how the fans hate you and how that's tarnishing your family legacy."

They stared at him, wearing matching expressions of disbelief.

"I put up with being saddled with you two because unfortunately it was my best shot to get out of dark match purgatory and finally make it to the main roster where I belonged since the day I walked into that crappy warehouse in Florida. So I did what I had to do to make it where I wanted to go. Sucked it up and dealt with all the annoyances that came along with the two of you. Pretended that I enjoyed it as much as you guys did. Acted like we were friends and brothers because it benefited me."

It was working because hurt flashed across their faces.

Dean knew he had to go in for the kill, "Happiest day of my life was the day they said the Shield was ending. It meant that I was finally free. But it pissed me off that they didn't let me be the one to put it out of it's misery. I deserved that honor, that reward for putting up with you two for as long as I did."

Seth looked horrified, his mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out. He had his arms wrapped around himself as if for support.

Roman swallowed thickly, "You don't mean it."

No, he didn't. But he wasn't going to let them know that. He had come this far and couldn't back down now. His eyebrows raised pointedly and he shot them a withering glance that was full of barely masked annoyance. "Why would I say it if I didn't mean it?"

They apparently couldn't or didn't want to answer that. Probably afraid of what he might respond with. So he gestured at the front door with the bat once again. "Now that we know where we stand, you can leave."


	35. Champion

**Summary: Had to do this after last night Money in the Bank!**

* * *

 _ **June 19, 2016**_

Dean stumbled back to the locker room after doing a fallout interview, his mind blown and his ears still ringing from the thunderous applause that punctuated his win. He had his prize clasped tightly in his hand. Once he made it inside, he slid down against the wall, knees level to his chest and laid it across them. Blue eyes just gazed at the gold staring back at him. His hand was shaking as he hesitantly reached out to touch the belt that was draped there but he dropped it quickly.

He didn't want to touch it because he expected it to disappear or to wake up and have it all been a dream. Because that was his luck. So many times, he'd been close. Had it ripped away or slip through his fingers. Been told that it just wasn't his time yet. That plans had changed and they were going in a different direction. Just be patient and someday, he'd be rewarded for it.

It made him doubt that it would ever happen.

He closed his eyes but when he opened them again, it was still there.

His unsteady finger made contact with the solid diamond incrusted W and he could feel how solid it was. It started to sink in that this time it was finally real. That was a holy shit moment. There was no technicality to take it away this time like there had been like the two other times he'd gotten a three count on the champion. No one announcing someone else as still being the champion or a referee trying to pry it out of his grasp so they could force him to watch it being handed to someone else.

He did it.

He finally fucking did it.

Twelve years of busting his ass in this business. Of wrestling for little to no money just so he could pay his dues, hone his craft and build his name the old fashioned way. Being broke and hungry, sleeping on friends couches or floors because he couldn't afford a place of his own. Working through pain, frustration and soul crushing disappointment. Wondering if he was good enough to ever get to the top of the mountain in the biggest company in their business.

Dealing with setbacks. The powers that be not being behind pushing him. Creative pigeonholing him in lame feuds. Of not being able to show what he was truly capable of doing. Not having the right look or lineage to back him up and being forced to be the comedic relief or placeholder in big feuds.

Now he was there.

Standing on top of the world as the champion.

It all felt so damn surreal. He won Money in the Bank. Took the risky gamble and cashed in only an hour later. Pinned Seth for a clean 1-2-3. Now here he was, less than an hour later, the new WWE World Heavyweight Champion.

He pushed his trembling hands through his sweaty hair and let out a breath that he didn't realize that he had been holding. This was overwhelming. In his mind, he always thought that he'd just be cool with winning the title, enjoy that validation. That he wouldn't get emotional over the it because he'd been a champion before, numerous times. It wouldn't be anything new to him, just a bigger, shinier and more expensive belt than he held before.

But he was wrong.

Because this was emotional.

God there were so many emotions. All of them just surging through his body at the same time. Ecstasy, disbelief, awe, exhaustion, confidence, vulnerability, giddiness and an unwelcome pang of melancholy. Unwelcome because right now, he didn't want to dwell on the negative aspects of this win. He wanted to be able to just sit back and soak it in, enjoy it for all it was worth.

But there was that nagging little voice in his mind that refused to listen and kept reminding him that this win was bittersweet. That ever since he made the main roster, when he envisioned this moment he had his brother's there with him. By his side. Celebrating with him like they did when he won the US Championship. Basking in the biggest win in his career along side him in the ring for the world to see and then heading out for a victory party to tear it up with the new champ off-screen.

They weren't.

And they wouldn't be.

Dean sighed, swiping a hand over his eyes. It sucked but that was the reality of how things currently stood. The brotherhood was over, the friendships were no more. They were nothing more than rivals now which was great for the fans. That meant they'd get a summer full of an awesome, personal, grudge-filled feud.

While they'd be together again, it wouldn't be the same. The chemistry they shared would be turned against each other. His goal would be to keep them from taking that belt away from him. To make sure that they finally realized that he was every bit as good as they were. That he could be the face of the company, could carry it as the standard bearer.

It wouldn't be easy.

He knew that.

When tomorrow night came, he'd be ready. He was born ready. This was his time to show the world that he was more than the lunatic that the company tried to paint him as. That he was more than the crazy middle brother of the Shield. More than just a guy who'd take any risk to get what he wanted. That he was capable of being focused and calculated like the champion needed to be.

For now, he was going to just savor this moment. Not allow his stubborn brain to dwell on the bad. That was something he'd leave to the smarks who were angry over his win. To the trolls on social media who felt that he didn't deserve it. Because he really didn't care about their opinions in the least.

Why should he?

The haters he had didn't mean anything.

Having that title over his shoulder said that even if his reign wasn't a long one, that the company finally had to acknowledge him as a top guy. Someone who earned the right, the privilege of having his name added to the list of greats who carried the title. That he was talented enough to be more than a blood drenched madman sideshow attraction. There was a payoff to doing things the hard way and not taking shortcuts.

Dean was going to enjoy having that validation for as long as he had that belt.


	36. Ambush 4

**Summary: Part four of Ambush**

* * *

Seth stared at the closed door in front of him in stupefied disbelief. That ended up going almost exactly as he thought it would. Right down to the throwing stars and the baseball bat. But it didn't feel right. Something about Dean's cutting remarks and the collected and calm demeanor even as he lashed out at them with weapons just rang hollow.

He knew for a fact that Dean had pinpoint accuracy with the throwing stars. The dirty blonde had demonstrated it one night, after a few drinks when Seth had teased him that he didn't know how to use them. So if he had wanted to, he could have made sure that he hit either Roman or him with one. Same with the bat. Yeah, he swung it at them but it never got close enough to ever make contact.

There should have been rage, malice, bitterness, hatred in those actions because they would be deserved.

But there was none of that.

Dean, despite what he claimed, wore his heart on his sleeve. He tended to react emotionally to situations, especially when it came to people he cared about. His face always gave away what he was feeling as did the myriad of tics that he was prone to having. Those blue eyes were usually windows to the sentiments that he was desperately trying to keep at bay. No matter how hard he tried to conceal them, they always managed to leak through.

This time, there was no indicator of what he felt.

It almost felt like that lack of reaction had been practiced.

He turned his attention to Roman, who looked defeated by the reception they received. It killed him to see the other man like that. "Is it me or was there something wrong with that scene?"

"Yeah, he hates us." The Samoan mumbled, dropping down onto the stairs and hanging his head.

"No," He folded his arms over his chest and shook his head. "I've been the object of his hatred before and trust me, that wasn't it. I really don't know what the hell that was."

"It definitely wasn't what I was expecting." The big brother of the shield sighed. "I figured he'd be mad…"

"There was no emotion." The high flyer cut him off, needing the other man to see it and understand why that was so troubling. "None at all. He just seemed empty and hollow and that whole situation was nothing more than a show to get rid of us."

Roman paled slightly, hating the possible reason that sprang to mind to explain the lack of emotion that the younger man described. "You don't think…"

"No," Seth knew exactly what thought had popped into the Samoan man's mind and quickly shook off that horrifying notion. "I think it's more of a situation where he's forced himself to shut down because it's easier."

"Easier than what?"

"Pretty much everything." He stood behind the other man and reached down, giving his tense shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "It explains why he's reverted to the way he was when he first came into the company. Distant, quiet, aloof."

The older man pondered that, "This is different though…"

"Not really." He mused, "Think about it. Dean's not hanging out in the locker room anymore. Doesn't exchange more than a quick greeting to people in passing. He's chosen to go back to traveling alone even though he was riding with Sami and Cesaro and he's known them forever."

"Why would he go back to that? He was doing so well."

"With everything that Dean's been through over the course of his life, I think he's reached the point where he's had enough mentally and emotionally. That he believes that he's better off going it alone and keeping people at arms length because he's had his trust shattered into so many pieces when he lets people in. So he's not going to try to glue the shards back together to have someone come along and break it again."

"If that's true then we only have ourselves to blame because we did that to him. Us. The two people he finally let in and trusted to always be there, to have his back and never betray him which we ended up doing." Roman ran his hand through his hair in frustration and huffed out his annoyance. "You know that right?"

"Yeah, I do."

"This isn't going to be easy to fix, is it?"

Seth knew it was supposed to be a rhetorical question but he felt the need to answer it anyway, "No, if he allows us the chance to fix things then it's going to take a lot of time, a huge effort and he's going to make us prove ourselves to him again."

"I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

"Me too but unfortunately, we might also have to face the fact that he's not going to give us the opportunity to even try to repair the damage."

"What do we do if he doesn't?" The Samoan asked tiredly, looking completely broken at the thought of not being able to fix this. "How can we approach it if he decides that it's not worth it and wants things just stay the way they are right now?"

"We'll try to change his mind." Seth hedged, not really wanting to go into the other half of his answer.

Roman turned his head, studying him carefully. "I feel like there's a but to that statement."

"Because there is."

"Ok, hit me with it little brother."

"But…if we try and he's really determined not to let us back in then we've got no choice but to accept his decision and back off." That was not something that they wanted to do but if that's what their former brother wanted then they'd have to respect that. "No matter how much we hate it."

"Well that sucks."

That made the sellout laugh but it was a bitter sound. "Yeah, it really does."

"So you're saying that even though I want to, I shouldn't stand up and march back over to his door, use the key to open it and hold him down while we plead our case?" Roman arched his eyebrow. "Or at least get some of the food we brought because I'm starving."

"I'm saying that we shouldn't do that right now." He gave a smirk and a shrug. "Dean's probably expecting that and has his nunchuks in hand, just waiting for us."

"You sound like you have a plan."

"Of course I do."

Roman let out an exasperated sigh. "Are you going to just stand there looking smug or you gonna fill me in?"

"Yup," Seth cast a hunted look back at the door. "The first part, we go back to the diner and have some breakfast. I'll fill you in on the rest over pancakes and coffee. Champ picks up the bill."

One eyebrow rose, "Uh, the champ just kicked us out of his house. So unless you somehow managed to swipe his wallet with he used us as target practice, he won't be paying for it."

"Ok, fine, the former champ with the most title reigns picks up the bill."


	37. Ambush 5

**Summary: The 5th installment of the Ambush Arc**

* * *

Roman watched his brother tuck into the plate of chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, sausage and home-fries before him with reckless abandon. If anyone could see the self-proclaimed health-nut at that moment they'd have enough blackmail material to have the architect on the hook for the rest of their lives. Breakfast food was his weakness and he tended to go with the most fattening items on the menu which was in stark contrast to the numerous posts related to healthy things and the photos from the gym he constantly posted on twitter. But he couldn't cast stones. His own personal addictions of sushi and cheesecake were well known.

However, he was getting annoyed waiting for the other man to fill him in on the plan he'd come up back at Dean's. He took a drink of his coffee and decided that he'd get the ball rolling on the conversation, "So this brilliant plan of yours…"

"Huh?" Seth finally lifted his head and swallowed the mouthful of food. "I wouldn't call it brilliant. It's simple really. Well no, that's not really true. Because if it backfires in the end, there's a possibility we could end up getting arrested."

Unfortunately, right as he was saying that, Roman had had taken a big gulp of coffee. He instantly started choking, as he struggled to swallow the warm liquid and not spit it out all over the place.

"Damn man!" The highflier handed him a wad of napkins. "You alright?"

He forced the last of the beverage down his throat, wiped his mouth and turned a piercing glare on the smaller man across from him. "I'll be better if you don't joke about something like that while I'm drinking or eating anything."

"Yeah, it's not a joke."

This whole conversation was beginning to feel like a huge, horrible case of déjà vu. He pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten under his breath. It was ironic because this action was usually reserved for moments when Dean was informing him of whatever plot he came up with to make someone's life hell or telling his latest crazy exploit. "What the hell kind of plan ends with us getting arrested and subsequently fired from our jobs?"

"Just hear me out." There was a smile that was supposed to be comforting on the former sellout's face but fell far short of that. "It'll all make sense in the end."

"Jesus, I'm having flashbacks of so many conversations with Dean that sounded exactly like this one."

Seth held up his hands, "Whoa, my plan isn't anything like one of Dean's."

"Oh really?" He challenged heatedly, "You said it ends with us going to jail…"

"I said it could, if it backfires." He clarified with a roll of his eyes. "You haven't allowed me to explain anything else because you keep interrupting."

"Forgive me for focusing on the part that has me trading in my ring gear for an orange jumpsuit and a cell mate named Bubba."

"Do you want to hear this or not?"

He debated on that. No good had ever come out of a conversation that held the promise of jail time. To be honest, he doubted that any good ever would from hearing this plot. But he didn't have a back up plan and his had failed spectacularly. Which kind of left him with no choice but to here his friend out.

"Hello? You here with me or have you gone catatonic?"

"I wish."

"So anyway, onto part two." Seth took a deep breath, "Dean is a creature of habit. At some point today, like he does every day he's off since he moved to Vegas, he'll emerge from his apartment to go on a hike and grab something to eat because as we both know all too well unless he can microwave it or throw it on bread, he'd starve. I say we wait for him to leave and then we go into the apartment to hang around until he gets back. He won't be expecting to walk in and have us there after he already kicked us out."

Ok, this didn't sound too bad so far. It was similar to the plan he had that led them there. Since they had a key, it wasn't considered breaking and entering. Thankfully, nothing he said so far warranted handcuffs and a cell. He nodded slowly, gesturing for the younger man to continue with a wave of his hand.

"We have to turn the tables and use his surprise to our advantage." He licked his lips. "I mean we have to go full on ambush."

That raised his worry meter slightly, " And what exactly constitutes a full on ambush?"

"Dean won't stay once he sees us. We both know without a shadow of doubt that he'll walk out the door." Seth said flatly. "That means we have to do something to stop that from happening."

The meter went up another notch. "Like?"

"I say we rush him, shove him into a chair and duct him to it."

Yeah, the alarm on the worry meter was sounding loudly now. He could practically see the life of an inmate laid out before him. That didn't exactly appeal to him. "You want us to essentially kidnap him?"

"No, it's not kidnapping…."

"Does abduction work better for you?"

Brown eyes rolled again, "No because neither of those words are accurate in this case. They're defined as carrying off by force. We're not going to remove him from his apartment."

"You looked it up?" He blurted out, "Been planning this long? Research this during one of your prior feuds with him?"

"Do you want to hear the rest of this or not?" Seth bit out tersely. "Or do you have a better idea?"

Roman blinked. "Well no,"

"Ok so where was I?" He smirked smugly. "The reason we have to restrain and gag him…"

"You never said anything about gagging him!" The powerhouse hissed, eyes wide in disbelief and that damn worry meter now completely off the charts with every detail added to this insane plan.

"If we don't, he won't stop cursing at us or threatening us with every death he knows, which we should really worry about because he knows some sick ones, long enough to listen. Duct tape his mouth and he's a captive audience. Problem solved."

Ok, that was a valid explanation. Didn't make the situation any better though because while it wasn't exactly a kidnapping scenario, it could definitely be considered a hostage situation by the law. "So you want to bind and gag our brother, hold him captive so we can force him to listen to us beg for a chance to make up all the wrongs we did. Then what?"

"Then we let him go."

"And you think that he'll just be like no hard feelings and let us leave?"

"Well, it's what I'm hoping what will happen."

Roman rubbed his temples slowly, "This is Dean we're talking about. You do remember that he's not exactly the most predictable person in the world. That he lives for getting revenge on people that he feels wronged him. Doing something like this would fall into that category."

"I know."

"Ok, so you do realize that once we freed him from his restraints that there's only two ways that this will possibly go, right?"

"I'm not sure…"

"Well I'm pretty sure that if we go through with your plan that it's not going to end in hugs and ice cream like you seem to think it will." Roman sighed heavily. "I'd be willing to bet that once we free him that he's either going to break his own rule and call the cops then gleefully watch them cuff us and toss us in the back of a squad car instead of him for once or he's going to dig into his vast knowledge of brutality and bury our bodies on some obscure trail he found while hiking."

Seth glared at him, "Like I said before, do you have a better idea?"

"No, but I do want it on record so you can testify to it at our trial that I'm not completely on board with this idea. But I'm a desperate older brother who doesn't want to lose someone he cares about so I'm willing to do something stupid to try to prevent that."

"Noted."


	38. Promo

**_Summary: Just an idea from the FCW days_**

* * *

 _July 18, 2011_

Dean finished his workout and took a shower, letting the warm water wash over his aching body. He sighed as the warmth ran out, water quickly turning ice cold. FCW sure as hell wasn't plush but he'd been hoping that the water temperature would hold up for more than eight minutes. Oh well. Once he got back to the dump he called an apartment he'd take a real shower.

After he got dressed, he looked at the time. It was almost ten at night on a day that he was supposed to be off. But there he was, trying to get himself into better shape and build his stamina. He knew that when Seth and him had their first match, he'd need it. The kid was non-stop and he had to be able to keep up if he wanted to impress the people in charge.

As he was heading toward the exit, his ears picked up the sound of a voice. No one else was in the building as far as he knew. Hell, it had taken him a lot of sweet talking and promises to Joey Mercury that he'd lock the place up securely when he left to snag this private workout time. So what the hell was that? And since he was the only one there, that meant that he'd have to find out.

He followed the sound down to the ring area and frowned at the sight that greeted him.

Seth was standing in the ring, working on a promo. There were five chairs set up and in those chairs were the CPR dummies they facility medics used. Apparently, they were tonight's audience to this special event. The high flier stopped what he was saying, cursed then started over. This happened three or four times, before the younger man let out a frustrated cry and sat down in the middle of the ring, hands pulling at his hair.

Dean felt bad for him. He had heard how Dusty had ridden him during the last promo class. Telling him that he could do better and that it felt like he was phoning it in. Pointing out that in a pre-taped interview that he nailed in but the ones he delivered in the ring and in front of the class were shaky and lifeless. No one knew better than the American Dream how a promo should be delivered. So to hear something like that from one of the best talkers in the business would definitely screw with you.

This was something he should be reveling in. Seth was his biggest obstacle in getting to the main roster. The kid was just as talented as he was. His conditioning was impressive and he was in great shape. He had a good look plus his style was more polished and flashy. But when it came time to deliver a great promo when it mattered, he had yet to accomplish that task.

Which was where Dean finally had an advantage.

Running his mouth was his forte. He could do promo's in his sleep. There was never a moment when he had a microphone in his hand that he didn't feel completely comfortable and confident. Whether he was a heel or a face, he could get the crowd exactly where he wanted them to be. In fact, in promo class, he wasn't even given a script like the others were. Dusty just gave him a list of bullet points to cover and let him run with it.

But he couldn't find it in himself to enjoy watching the kid struggle with this.

With a sigh, he pushed off the wall and cleared his throat. Brown eyes snapped toward him and he gave a little wave in response. "Hey Seth, what'cha doing?"

Seth blinked, taken aback by the fact that he wasn't alone. "Why are you here?"

"Me? I got permission." His smirk widened. "How about you?"

"Of course I got permission."

He wondered why Joey hadn't mentioned to him that he'd be sharing the facility with his biggest rival. But he shrugged it off and focused his attention back on the man in the ring as he made his way up the stairs, climbing in the ring with him. "Doing some homework? Don't want to get scolded by the teacher again?"

"Shut up."

"I'm just messing with ya." He leaned against the corner and motioned his hand toward the discarded microphone. "Want to pass me that?"

Seth sighed quietly but did as he was asked, handing the mic over to him.

"Ambrose comes in here, gunning for me, saying that he's better than me!" Dean spouted off the first sentence of the promo he had heard the other man working on, making sure to add the right amount of anger and indignation to every word. He turned his attention to the makeshift audience and pointed toward his chest. "This medal, the FCW 15 championship says that I'm the best! That I am the future of FCW!"

Brown eyes just stared at him in a mix of wonder and dismay.

"I say that we find out whose the best. Who the real future of this company is!" He lowered his voice and shifted his attention back to the man in the ring. "The time for talking is over. You think that you're better than me, prove it here, in this ring." With that, he dropped the mic.

"I already know that you're better than me at promos." The darker haired man blew out an annoyed breath. "No need to rub it in."

"First off, thanks." Dean grinned and sat down on the canvas. "Secondly, I wasn't rubbing it in. I was showing how it should be done, how it deserves to be done."

"I try but I just can't. I look out into the audience and once I see them all staring at me, I freeze up."

"Ok so it's simple, don't look at them."

Seth looked confused, "You have to look at them…"

"Wrong!" Dean cut him off, shaking his head. "Yeah, you have to face them and look toward them but you don't have to look at them. Focus your attention over their heads, at a camera or a wall."

"But,"

"No, there are no buts." He stated flatly. "If looking at them throws you off then find a focal point and just concentrate on that. Now onto the way you deliver them."

"What's wrong with it?"

"To be blunt, you come off as not being confident in what you're saying at all." Holding up a hand to halt the other man's protest, he rolled his eyes. "Spare me the reasons and excuses. It's the truth. They're words and without emotion or conviction then that's all they are. You need to feel what you're saying is true and make others believe that same point."

"Not all of us have the luxury of not being able to say what we want."

"Yeah, but if you don't believe in what they wrote then it's up to you to find a way to make it into something you do believe and feel." Dean couldn't believe that the kid never thought about taking a liberty with what was written. "If you need to twist it or change the way it's said then do it. But if you don't make it your own, if you don't get yourself to a place where you can deliver what the audience and powers that be want to hear then you'll never make it to the top. So make it yours, use whatever emotion you're feeling and deliver the hell out of it."

Seth looked completely dumbfounded, "Why are you trying to help me?"

"Because you and I are the two biggest stars on this roster and I want to give the fans and the people in charge the best damn rivalry that FCW had ever seen. I want it to be so damn good that the WWE has no choice but to acknowledge that we're here and that given the same opportunity on the main stage, we could kill it." Dean told him honestly, pinning him with a hard glare. "I'm not going to have my shot screwed up because you don't live up to your end of the feud. I want you to come at me verbally and physically with everything you have because I'm going to come at you hard."


	39. Deal

**Summary: Follows Promo, more FCW days.**

* * *

 _July 25, 2011_

Another day off and another late night session at the FCW facility. Dean chugged some water, chest rising and falling rapidly. That fucking stair-master was the devil. He sighed, leaning his forehead against his arms as he tried to get his breathing back to something closer to normal. It wasn't an easy task at all and for the millionth time the notion that he should have quit smoking years ago flashed through his head.

He straightened back up and got back on the machine, determined to last more than two minutes on it. Resuming where he left off, he managed to make it another hundred and fifty stairs before he had to get off again. His chest burning with every panting breath he drew in and forced out. His head spun suddenly and he quickly had to kneel down before he collapsed in a heap. "Fuck!"

Why the hell was this so hard? Years ago, when he was first starting, he was always one of the fittest guys in his class. Could outlast them all. Sure, he hadn't been as strict with going the gym, his diet and working out the last few years but damn, he did actually put some effort into his body. There was no reason that he should be about to die this early into his workout.

"So that's what you're doing here."

Recognizing the voice, his head snapped toward it and sneered. "Here to give the CPR dummies another private promo class?"

Seth rolled his eyes but ignored him as he studied the setting on the machine. "Trying to work on your cardio huh?"

"No, I just have a passion for the stair-master."

"I could help you." The younger man offered it nonchalantly, finger toying with the button on the stair-master. "Since you obviously have no idea what you're doing."

"I don't know what I'm doing?" He barked, offended. "Just because I don't live in the gym like you do, don't mean that I'm a newbie to it."

"Do you run?"

He blinked, wondering where the hell that had come from. "What?"

"You have the difficulty set to expert and the resistance at a nine. Now unless you spend a lot of time running stadium stairs or uphill in San Francisco with a rubber resistance band around your ankles, there's no way in hell you should have it there. Explains why you seem like you're about to pass out."

"Maybe I just like a challenge." His response was cocky and confident but inside he felt a little bit of relief. That explained why he was having such a hard time. The machine was set wrong. Thank god. He wasn't completely an out of shape mess like he was starting to think.

"Listen I was mulling over what you said last week and you're right. We are the best they have down here." Seth shoved his hands in the pocket of his jeans. "If we're going to give this company something to think about then we have to be firing on all cylinders. So I've got a business proposition for you."

Dean raised an eyebrow, "Really? Hit me with it?"

"It's simple. You help me with my promo's, get me where I need to be. I'll help you get yourself back into the shape that you need to be so you're not sucking wind seven minutes into our match."

"I won't be sucking wind…"

"Yeah, you would." The dark haired man stated flatly. "And we both know it."

"Even if I was winded, I could still kick your ass."

"Really?" Seth tilted his head and tutted him, "Can't kick my ass if you're flat on your back because you couldn't breathe and passed out."

The little asshole had a point but there was no way in hell that he was going to admit that out loud. Not at all. He pulled himself to his feet and crossed his arms over his chest, pinning the younger man with his most intimidating glare. "In case you forgot, we're rivals. Both trying to be the first to reach the promise land."

"You said it yourself, we need each other at our best so this feud gets the powers talking. We're in a unique position to help each other achieve our goals. My weakness is your strong point and your weakness is my area of expertise." He raked a hand through his hair and gave a smirk. "So consider it more like working together to for the greater good of our careers."

"Doesn't mean I'll take it easy on your in the ring."

"Wouldn't expect it man because I'm not planning on letting up either."

Dean considered it. He'd always been highly competitive so maybe having someone to go against in these workouts would be just what he needed. Might be nice to have someone to push him when he didn't feel like continuing or to remind him what he was working for when he was discouraged. It wasn't like it would be forever. Just for now. They'd end their deal once he was in good enough shape and Seth could deliver a promo without choking.

"Do we have a deal?" Seth inquired, holding out his hand to shake on it.

He shook the offered hand. "Fine but hope you know, you just made a deal with the devil. You think Dusty's rough on you, you ain't seen nothing yet kid."

"Ditto." He put his hands back in his pocket and nodded, "I'll text you later where to meet me and make sure you're on time. I hate people being late."


	40. Ambush 6

**Summary: Next chapter of the Ambush Arc**

* * *

Dean groaned as he pulled his truck up to the entrance of his apartment complex but didn't make the turn to enter it. He really wondered sometimes if Roman and Seth thought he was stupid or completely unobservant as his narrowed gaze locked on the rental car in the parking lot used by the people who didn't have garages with their apartments. Did they seriously think that a man who'd had his horrific childhood and a rough entry into adulthood, wouldn't be aware of everything around him at all times? Of what belonged and what didn't? Wouldn't have watched them drive off in that same car after he kicked them out of his house?

It was like they hadn't spent five years around him or had forgotten.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head sadly.

They were really bad at this. Like cheesy B-movie bad. Everyone knew the basic rule of surprising someone was to be as covert as possible. You did not park in plain sight. That was like hanging a fucking banner announcing your arrival. The smartest thing they could have done would have been to leave the car in the parking lot of the diner two blocks down and walk over.

But their mistake was a big benefit for him because that meant he knew they were there.

Idiots.

The engine idled as he wondered how this round was going to play out. He'd gotten the upper hand earlier because they hadn't paid attention to their surroundings, worrying more about his reaction than his actions. Obviously, they had a new plan now. Probably would have tried to fine tune it as much as they could and make sure that things went their way this time. Like hiding anything that he could potentially use as a weapon against them.

The only problem was, they were underestimating him again.

That was a long standing pattern in their relationship.

While Seth loved to boast about his plans, about being the architect, the truth was that they were often surprisingly short-sighted. He usually forgot to account for the variables because he didn't think they existed so they tended to be to the point and concise. Roman was too straight-forward thinking to be able to spot the flaws in the plan and would blindly go along with it. The task of pointing out the issues had usually fallen into his lap, which is where being paranoid was a good thing. Because he saw all the possible angles, the numerous loopholes and the ways to exploit them.

It was why he'd been able to get the drop on Seth during their feud.

The reason that he hit Roman unexpectedly with dirty deeds several times in the ring.

If he knew them as well as he thought he did, they were probably just sitting in the living room waiting for him to walk in the front door. Content in their plot. Going over the finer details on how to confront him, on what would be the most effective thing to say to get him to forgive them. Neither one of them would have considered that he could use another entrance into the house. Like the door inside his garage that led into the small laundry room or the patio door in his bedroom.

It would be satisfying to be in the house without them knowing.

He'd be able to eavesdrop and find out what they were planning so he could be ready.

Both of them would have failed to account for the fact that he might not be coming back to the house at all because it didn't fit with their plot. Which was a huge oversight. It was something they should have factored in. After all, it wouldn't be unheard of for him to spend the night out doing whatever he felt like. How many times had he failed to show back up to their shared hotel room because he found something else he'd rather do?

A smirk curved his lips.

Now that could be fun.

He could just drive off, get himself a case of beer and a hotel room for the night. Kick back, relax and not have to deal with the bullshit. How long would they sit around waiting before they realized he wasn't coming back? Would they even think that or would they figure he return at some point? When he went back in the morning, would he find them passed out because they were stubborn and tried to hang around until he showed up?

They were in denial about his choice.

So yeah, they'd stay.

As much fun as that idea was, if he didn't want to deal with them today then he sure as hell wouldn't want to deal with them tomorrow. No one looked forward to facing a sure fight that damn early. But there was no way around it, at some point he'd have to go home to pack his stuff for the house show stretch. He was the current champ that meant that he had to be there. So while the idea of ditching them and crashing someplace else for the night was entertaining, it would only be putting off the inevitable.

That always ended up biting him in the ass.

It was better to just get this over with.

He put the car in drive and took the turn into his complex, passing by apartments until he reached his. But he didn't pull into the garage like he usually did, opting instead to park in the driveway. Just in case he needed to get the hell out of there before he committed murder. Taking a deep breath, he cut the engine and got out, deciding that instead of using an alternate entrance that he'd confront this head on. Hear them out, shatter their dreams then kick them out again, making sure to have Roman leave his key behind.

It would be easy.

He could just tune them out until they were finished.

Three minutes later, he regretted that decision when Roman speared him into a folding chair. It knocked the wind out of him which allowed Seth to duct tape each arm to the metal, rendering them useless. He opened his mouth to level them with a verbal tirade but the sell out bastard quickly covered his mouth with the tape. Pissed off, he kicked out at them, his sneaker connecting solidly with Roman's thigh. The big man held his legs against the chair and the high flier quickly bound them too.

Well this was an unexpected development.

Not in a good way either.

The tape muffled the litany of curses coming out of his mouth at that moment as the two morons holding him hostage just gaped at him in disbelief, obviously surprised their plan had worked. He struggled against his bindings but couldn't break free. Shit. This unpleasant twist meant that there wasn't a damn thing he could to get out of this without having to hear them out. Next time, because he was pretty damn sure that there would be one, he was just gonna ignore the damn angel on his shoulder telling him to be an adult and listen to the devil telling him to say screw it all and drive off instead.


	41. Tokyo

**Author's Note: I blame all the amazing gifs of Seth and Dean in Japan for this.**

* * *

Dean sighed as he threw himself down onto the bed in his hotel room, completely worn out from the insane schedule he'd done the past few days. As much as he wanted to just relax and fall asleep, he couldn't seem to manage it. His wandering mind was to blame. It wouldn't shut down and kept trying to make sense of things, ok so it was only one thing in particular really, that had happened lately. Seth suddenly trying to be all buddy-buddy with him off camera.

Which was weird.

Their friendship had pretty much ended when the Shield did. It wasn't hard feelings from the way it happened on TV. They were just the talent and had no control over what the powers that be decided to do creatively. No, their friendship ended when Seth had begun to legitimately change. He started acting a little too much like his on screen character when he was off screen, including some shady behavior.

That led to a few heated arguments, harsh words and a complete break down of trust. It had gotten so bad that it was to the point where they started ignoring each other, not even looking in the other's direction. Yeah, that would have hindered most guys who were opponents but not them. They could still work together in their programs, still give the audience a compelling and complex rivalry that had them eating out the palm of their hands. But as soon as they were backstage, they went their separate ways.

It had been that way ever since.

Until Seth returned from his knee injury. It started small, the first week back the so called architect started nodding at him in acknowledgement whenever they passed. By the next week, he had progressed to saying a quick hey or hi as they walked by each other. Week three brought him trying to make conversation, usually by asking a seemingly innocuous question about something from the past that he just couldn't remember correctly. When news of Roman's suspension hit, the sell out had actually showed up in his locker room and said that if he needed to talk or vent that he was there to listen.

Dean had ignored or blown off the attempts so far.

That didn't stop Seth though. He'd claimed the seat next to him on the bus the company rented to take the talent from the hotel to the arena. Chatting excitedly about Tokyo and the culture, how prestigious it was to wrestle at Sumo hall. Marveling at how different the fans were from fans of other countries. Saying that he couldn't wait to hit up a sushi spot that AJ had raved about after the show and how Dean should go with him to check it out.

Since his former brother refused to accept silence as an answer, Dean decided to just make it perfectly clear that his plans for the night did not include Seth. So he flatly stated that he was tired and only wanted to sleep after the show. He left no room for negotiation. No loopholes that could be exploited. Nothing that allowed the conniving man any wiggle room to twist it to fit his whims.

He couldn't lie. It felt good to see disappointment momentarily flash across the younger man's face. But that was short lived as the dark haired man nodded and gave him a contrite smile. Then he did something shocking, apologized for forgetting how crazy his schedule had been this week. Telling him that he hoped that he was taking care of himself because he'd hate to see him get too run down or injured because he was going above and beyond.

Thankfully, the bus had arrived at it's destination at that point and saved Dean from having to answer. As soon as he got into the arena, he found the smallest and most remote dressing room he could, holing himself up in there until it was time for his match. During the match, which was a triple threat against Kevin and Seth, he somehow found himself working with the high flier to take out the prize fighter. They double power-bombed him and celebrated. Seth even tried to get him to high five but he ignored it, playing to the crowd for a bit then attacking his former partner.

The ride back mirrored the ride to arena. Seth chatting away animatedly, even more hyper than he had been. The only difference was that the bus was making stops, dropping the guys off at various restaurants. When they arrived at the sushi restaurant, Seth gave him a long searching look then told him to get some rest and have a good night. He finally relaxed as the architect exited the bus and enjoyed the ride back to the hotel in peace, only the road agents left on the bus with him.

Dean sighed, rolling over in bed, hoping that a change of position might finally bring on sleep. Before he could get comfortable though, there was a knock at his door. He groaned but got up to answer. It was probably one of the road agents with information about some press thing or change in the show that he had to know about. But when he pulled open the door, it wasn't a agent.

Seth stood there, timid grin on his lips and a bag in his hand. "Hey man, hope I didn't wake you."

"Wasn't sleeping yet."

"When I was at the restaurant, I figured I'd grab you something to eat because I know how you sometimes have issues with ordering when we're in different countries."

That was true. He was not multilingual. Sure, he could say a couple of words in different languages but he couldn't read them or decipher it enough to know what the hell it was describing. One incident that was permanently etched into both man's brains was the time he had pointed to a picture of something that looked good only for it to turn out to be a brains and intestine combination. Ever since then, unless he was with someone who was fluent in the language of the country they were in, he didn't order anything.

"It's you favorite." His former brother stated quietly, an embarrassed blush staining his cheeks, holding out the bag for him to take.

The dirty blonde hadn't eaten since lunch and was starving but he was reluctant to take the food. If he did, it might seem like he was accepting the other man's attempts at repairing their broken friendship. Which he wasn't. Not right now. He wasn't sure if he'd ever really be able to view him like he once did and if he couldn't then he didn't want to give either of them false hope.

"There's no conditions attached." It was still freaky that even after everything, Seth knew what was going through his head "Eating it doesn't mean that I think everything between us is settled. As much as I want to fix this, I know that it's not that easy."

Dean considered it for a minute before accepting the bag. "Uh, you know, thanks for the food."

"No problem man." Seth turned to go but gave him one last look. "Enjoy and hope you get some rest."


	42. Drunk

**Author's note: I have no clue what inspired this one.**

* * *

Seth was wrenched from his sleep by a loud crash and groaned as he heard the loud stuttering footsteps from the hallway outside his hotel room. A quick look at his phone told him it was two-thirty in the morning. One of his coworkers must have drank a little too much after the night's Smackdown tapings. Tuesday night was the end of their week so they'd usually gather for a weekly decompression session at whatever hole in the wall bar they found. He had skipped the celebration because he still trying to get adjusted to life on the road again.

Besides, if he had gone, he'd probably be asleep on the bar after two beers.

This week had been really long. Raw, Smackdown, Hawaii, Tokyo then Raw and Smackdown again with no days off. A lot of travel in a short period of time definitely wore you out. Which was why, he opted to stay in tonight and try to get some rest before his flight back to Iowa. Plus, even though he was trying his best to make amends for his behavior before his injury, there still weren't many guys on the roster who'd give him the time of day let alone have a drink with him. Roman had been the only one to accept his apology and resume the friendship but since he was suspended, that left him without a drinking buddy.

Which was no fun.

From outside the room came a thunderous thud. He froze for a second then shot up out of bed. There was no doubt in his mind that someone had just fallen. Pulling open his door, he was met with the sight of a body face down on the ugly, dirty gray carpeting. His wide eyes roamed over the well worn jeans, trademark leather jacket and messy, matted dirty blonde curls. "Jesus Dean."

This was another bad thing about Roman's suspension. Without the big dog around, there was no one to discreetly police Dean's activities. Even though the two weren't currently talking, the oldest brother of the shield still looked out for the younger man. Making sure that bartenders switched the other man over to just soda instead of jack and coke or non-alcoholic beer instead of a real one once he'd had enough. Because if he didn't, the dirty blonde would drink himself into oblivion, especially when he had a lot on his mind.

Seth reached down, making sure not to let his room door close, wrapped his arms around his fallen former brother's torso. It was a fight to get the paralytic man to his feet. Despite how lanky he was or the fact that he slouched constantly, the current WWE champion was not a small or light man. Especially when he was nothing but dead weight like he was right then. "Come on Deano, work with me."

Bleary blue eyes opened slightly, completely glazed over in a drunken haze. Those lips curved in a sneer as he tried to focus on him, "Fuck you doing with me scum bag?"

Ignoring the all too familiar moniker, he hauled the slightly bigger man into his room and turned a deaf ear to the man's loud protests. It wouldn't be good if any of the agents saw him in this condition. They'd wonder if he was cracking under the pressure of being the champ or run back to report it to Triple H or Stephanie. He really needed to sober him up, fast. Get water, pain killers and food into his system then toss him in the shower because right now, the champion smelled like he bathe in a bathtub full of whiskey.

But to do all that, he has to let go of Dean.

He grimaced because he knew from experience what'll happen when he does that. If he has him stand up or sit him on the bed, the lanky bastard will just end up in a heap on the floor again. So he dropped him into chair by the small table in his room instead, hoping that the wall next to it will keep the other man semi-upright. "Just stay there man, I'll be right back."

"I want pancakes." Dean's slurred voice somehow manages to be forceful. "An a bacon cheeseburger! Oh California rolls too!"

Seth's stomach lurched at that order. He'd forgotten how weird his friend's appetite got when he was drunk. Thankfully, he didn't have any of the requested items in his possession and room service had stopped almost three hours ago. That meant that the eccentric man would just have to make do with the supply of protein bars that was available. It wouldn't go over well, the dirty blonde had a severe aversion to all things health food.

Although if he smashed the bar down, it might be able to pass as a pancake.

He grabbed a water, a bottle of ibuprofen and two bars. When he got back over to the table, he sighed when he found the older man face down, snoring lightly. "Damn it."

There was no way that he could just let his former team mate sleep like that. When he finally rejoined the land of the living, he'd be in a lot of pain. He grabbed his phone and called down to the front desk, asking if they had a cot available. But there were none. With a groan, he hung up, resigning himself to the fact that he was going to have to share his bed for the night.

Nostalgia over took him for a second.

When they first made it to the main roster, the three of them had shared rooms to cut down on road costs. Seth and Roman usually got the beds and Dean usually crashed on the floor because he was a restless sleeper. Unless the place was really sketchy. Then he'd reluctantly agree to hop in a bed with one of them, warning them that if he squashed or hit them through the night it wasn't on purpose. But they always made it work, for more than a year.

Snippets of conversations about being the best in the company and dominating the business ran through his mind. Laughter over stupid jokes or horror stories from the Indy days echoed in his thoughts. Impromptu wrestling matches breaking out. Prank wars that went on endlessly. Teasing each other about silly botches or losing their train of thought during a promo.

Then there were the other moments, the moments that defined their brotherhood. Taking care of each other through small injuries. Long talks about whatever was bothering them. Having each others backs no matter what. Celebrating holidays and birthdays together on the road but not feeling cheated because they had each other.

Sometimes, he really hated thinking about those days.

They reminded him of everything he had given up by being an asshole.

He shook off those thoughts and focused his mind on the task at hand. Once he got the unconscious man over to the bed and took off his sneakers, he sighed before climbing into the bed himself. His eyes went to the snoring man on the opposite side of the bed and he realized exactly how bad things had become over the last two years. How when Dean woke up in the morning and found himself here, it wasn't going to be pretty. And how when the man inevitably stormed out of the room, Seth would once again feel the weight of his bad decisions crashing over him.


	43. Pain

**Summary: More FCW Dean and Seth fun**

* * *

 _August 1, 2011_

Seth Rollins was a sadist.

That was the only explanation that Dean could come up with.

Why else would the sick bastard's idea of helping him improve his stamina involve activities that made him feel like he was going to die? The entire week they'd been working together was one long stretch of pain and agony. Five mile runs at the ass crack of dawn followed by an hour long intense cross fit session. Then, as if that wasn't enough, another half an hour of in-ring work to sharpen his moves. That was in addition to the mandatory workouts and ring work that FCW required.

Every muscle in his body screamed in anguish. Hell there were muscles he didn't even know existed that were waving white flags and pleading for it to stop. Mundane tasks made him grimace with every movement. No amount of hot showers, icy hot or even alcohol did anything to lessen the pain. It was so bad that even his damn hair hurt and while he'd heard the expression before, he didn't believe it could be true but he knew now that yes it was possible.

Depraved fucker.

There was no doubt that Seth enjoyed every moment of his suffering.

It sucked that all he had to retaliate with was forcing the younger man to repeat his promo over and over. Picking apart where it fell flat and where he should have taken a pause or used a facial expression to emphasize a point. Maybe it maybe shook the high flier a little. Probably rattled his confidence but it didn't really hurt him. It sure as hell didn't leave him in agony and barely able to move.

He should punch the maniacal little prick every time he messed up what he was saying.

That might make them even for the torture that was being inflicted on him.

He bent to tie his shoes, hissing as his back screamed in protest. Yeah, he definitely needed to hit Seth. As hard as he could. A lot. Maybe kick him in the ribs while he was wearing steel toed boots a few times too.

"Hey!"

Think of the devil and they appear.

"Guess what! There's a cross fit boot camp tonight and we're going to participate." Seth informed him, his voice betraying his enthusiasm for this. "My friend at the gym gave me the heads up and I put our names on the list."

His head snapped up, muscles once again not happy at the movement. Evil bastard says what? This was a joke right? The FCW 15 champ had to be fucking with him because he knew how much he was hurting. He studied the smiling man and realized that it was no joke, he was serious. Slowly, he shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Come on man, this will help a long way with getting you into the shape you need to be in. These things kick your ass."

Blue eyes rolled, "My ass is already kicked."

"Really? After only five days?" The younger man frowned. "Were you working out at all before you got here?"

Dean huffed in annoyance. "I worked out but it was nothing like this. This shit is some crazy, intense Olympic athlete type of workout."

Now it was Seth's turn to roll his eyes. "The biggest names on the WWE roster do things the same way. They're in the gym constantly, going as hard as they can. Morning. Noon. Night and even overnight. That's why they're the top guys and not just one of the guys. So which one do you want to be? A top guy or just one of the guys?"

His eyes narrowed at the question because it hit him hard. This wasn't his first shot at making it to the biggest company in their industry. Not even his second or third. He'd come so close years ago, being one of their chosen enhancement talent anytime they came through Cincinnati and appearing on Heat, Velocity and even getting to be one of the Undertaker's druids at a PPV. But his struggle with some personal demons had destroyed all that and he was forgotten by them.

He spent years after that busting his ass on the Independent scene after that. Working on his character. Perfecting his promo's. Expanding his moves. Taking crazy risks for no money just to make himself one of the biggest, most talked about names on the circuit because while he was resigned to the fact that he would never make it to the WWE, thought his chance had passed him by, there was apart of him that wanted to stick it to them for rejecting him.

Then he got the call, a development contract offer.

This was last chance to show them what he could do, that he belonged there.

So the answer to Seth's question was simple. There was no way in hell that he finally made it there to just wash out in developmental because he couldn't hack it or make it to the main roster and be content to be just one of the guys. He wanted to be on the long, prestigious list of names that held the WWE championship, that gave people matches that they still talked about years later. Like Bret Hart and Shawn Michaels, two names that were synonymous with great matches that stood the test of time, that people would still watch and be in awe of.

"Well?"

"Trust me, I didn't come here to be just one of the guys." He sneered, "I came here to take over, kick Cena out of the top spot and rule this company."

An eyebrow quirked, "How are you going to do that when you can't even get through a fifteen minute iron man match down in developmental without needing an oxygen tank?"

"Fuck you asshole." He bit out, "I'll do your stupid little boot camp. But just be aware that when we do your promo tomorrow, you better be prepared. I've gone easy on you but I won't from now on."

"Good because that's not what I want." Seth sighed. "Why do you think I came to you with this business deal? Because I didn't want someone who'd baby me or hold my hand through it. I wanted someone who'd come right out, tell me it sucked and not hold back."

"No worries, I'll do exactly that."

The darker haired man smirked, "Just like I'll be the hard-ass who makes you workout every day even though you're tired, sore and complaining way too much."


	44. Hangover

**Summary: Follow up to Drunk**

* * *

Seth gave up trying to sleep around six-thirty in the morning. Not by choice. He hadn't gotten much sleep at all. Now he remembered exactly how bad sharing a bed with Dean could be, especially when the man was drunk. His unexpected slumber buddy not only tossed, turned and snored but in between all that, he cut a promo.

That wasn't a joke.

The dirty blonde had actually cut a freaking promo while he was unconscious. Worst thing was, it was damn good. He sold the hell out of the upcoming match at Battleground. Hit all the right notes, all the emotions. Minus the cursing, it would have made a damn good promo from him to give on Raw or Smackdown.

But of course, that wasn't all.

Dean had also spastically wiggled out of his jacket and shirt sometime during the night slapping Seth in the face with it. He hogged the covers. Monopolized the bed. Kicked and elbowed anything in his way. That lasted until Seth had moved so close to the edge that he ended up falling out and landed like a starfish on the damn rug.

So knowing that he would not be getting any rest, Seth settled into the chair by his table and killed time until room service was available by reading. At eight, he ordered his breakfast. Now at eight-thirty he was eating it and drinking his second cup of coffee as he waited for his former team mate to wake up. Since there was a damn good possibility that this would be his last meal, he had broken from his usual healthy breakfast. He was indulging in a fattening feast of eggs, bacon, sausage and a big stack of chocolate chip pancakes.

If Dean was going to kill him then at least he was going out with a full stomach.

Speaking of the eccentric man, there was pained groaning coming from the lump beneath the blanket on the bed. Damn it. He thought he would have more time to enjoy his food before he was murdered. Maybe if he sat really still and was quiet, it would buy him a few minutes to finish his feast. After all, Dean always tended to be a little slower to react than normal when he was hung over.

The blanket peeled back and a very tousled head of dirty blonde curls emerged slowly from the cocoon. But it quickly hid back under the covers, a barrage of curses being muffled beneath the fabric. Guess the hung-over man wasn't a fan of sunlight this morning. His head was probably killing him. That tended to happen when you drank your body weight in alcohol.

"Motherfucker." Came the biting curse from the bed.

Seth froze, his forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth. Every muscle in his body clenched in dismay. His eyes darted toward the voice, wondering if the obscenity was being directed at him. But to his relief, it wasn't. Dean was still hiding beneath the covers and wishing death upon all sources of light.

It was so familiar that he couldn't help the smirk that twisted his lips.

That scene had played out so many times over the course of them knowing each other. He knew that he had five minutes until Dean would stumbled out of bed, still cursing under his breath and make his way to the bathroom. From there, it could go two ways. The dirty blonde would come back into the room and drop back down on the bed, going back to sleep until his head felt reasonably better. Or he'd be tempted by the smell of food and decide to stay awake, grousing grumpily about being up so damn early as he inhaled whatever was in front of him.

Sure enough, his former shield brother got out of bed, muttering profanities a mile a minute and didn't bother to look around as he made his way into the bathroom. Seth knew he didn't have a lot of time. Once the other man exited the bathroom, they'd be face to face. That meant that the fun started then. He quickly polished off his breakfast and downed the last of his coffee just as the bathroom door banged opened loudly.

He swallowed and looked up, right into the bloodshot blue eyes that were glaring at him.

"Hey, sorry I didn't save you any breakfast." Seth ventured cautiously, "Want me to order you something? Still craving those pancakes you were asking for last night?"

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Dean's snarl was low but dangerous, his hand splayed over his collarbone and fingers tapping a frantic beat against it.

"This is my room, where else would I be?"

He froze and scowled, hand falling away from his neck. "The fuck am I doing in here?"

"Well I dragged you in here after you face planted in the hall. Figured I'd sober you up and send you on your way but you passed out before I could."

"Could've left me in the hall." He sneered, "I'd have left you out there."

"I'm sure an agent finding you like that would have been a lot better. They'd report back to Triple H or Steph who are so on edge ever since Roman tested positive that they would probably decide that you need rehab and strip you of that title." He shrugs, "Or one of the guys who's not very happy with you being in the top spot could've found you and decided to post a pic of you in all your drunken glory on social media…"

A savage sounding growl cut him off and he swallowed thickly, holding up his hands as he stood up from his seat. "I did what I had to do to make sure that you didn't end up in trouble. I know you don't like it but it's the truth. "

Dean laughed, a bitter sound that grated on him. "Ain't that cute?"

"Huh?" He was genuinely perplexed by that. "What's cute?"

"You acting don't want that to happen to me. Don't want to see me humiliated and sent packing. Leave you as the only member of the Shield that was still standing."

"I don't want any of that to happen."

Those blue eyes rolled, "Yeah right! You'd fucking love it."

"No, I wouldn't." Seth sighed heavily. "I don't hate you and despite what you think, what I've said and made you believe, I don't want to see you fail. We're brothers,"

"The hell we are." The gravelly tone was sharp, warning and cold. "Them days are dead and buried. Ain't no bring them back."

He felt his chest constrict with that proclamation. It never ceased to hurt when the current champ said things like that. Probably always would unless he could find a way to crack the man's tough shell again. But he needed to push past that and try to get him to see reason before this broke down into a physical fight. "Why would I want someone who forces me to be at my best every time we step in the ring against each other since our days down in FCW gone from the company? We're this generation's best rivalry. Like The Rock and Stone Cold or Triple H and Shawn Michaels."

Dean opened his mouth but quickly closed it again, content on glaring at him instead.

Seth decided to push his point, "I know when I'm fighting you that it forces me to step my game up, to hold up my end of the bargain that we made years ago that we were going to own the business. Whether we were friends or enemies. Well, we accomplished that and I refuse to let anyone take that away from us. I know you do too."

He saw the internal debate going on in his brother's face.

The current champion was trying to decide whether he was lying or if he should just stop listening and punch him just so he'd shut up. It obviously wasn't as an easy decision this time like it normally was. But it seemed like he was coming to a decision. His hands curled in and out of fists. Those blue eyes suddenly seemed a lot clearer. His body straightened from his usual lazy slouch, intimidating and threatening.

Quick as a lightening strike, a fist collided with his jaw and sent him tumbling back into his chair.

Dean leaned down, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking his head up so their eyes locked. Those blue ones were burning with rage, a fire so hot it could burn. "We're enemies. Then, now and forever. Don't forget that."

Seth winced as his head bounced painfully off the wall when he was released. He wanted to protest, to try to get the other man to give up on this anger and allow him the chance to make things right but he kept his mouth closed. If he said anything then things would break down further. A brawl in a hotel room would get them both arrested or suspended if the cops didn't come. All he could do was watch as Dean grabbed his stuff and stormed out of the room, not even bothering to spare him a second glance.


	45. Chilling

**Author's note: Just want to take a moment to say damn, that Dean/Seth segment was everything on RAW tonight. Dean's promo gave me chills and just reminded me so much of Moxley because of how gritty and real it was. Been waiting a long time to see the fiery and intense side of him emerge. Hope the WWE keeps it going.**

 **Summary: Seth's reaction, that subtle fear as he looked at Dean is what inspired this.**

* * *

 _July 11, 2016_

When Seth made it back to his locker room after he left the ring, he slumped against the wall. His hands shook as he roughly shoved them through his hair. The adrenaline that flooded his body during that confrontation with Dean was rapidly dwindling. Another feeling had begun to take over. He didn't like it at all because it wasn't what he had been expecting to feel when he got Dean to agree to a one on one match for the strap.

He should be elated. His confidence should be at an all time high. There should be no doubt that he was going to beat the other man and take back what he felt was his. A million different plans should be dancing through his mind so he could narrow it down to the one that would be the most effective. It should be a moment of basking in what would inevitably be a sure victory.

But there was none of that.

Instead, there was a strange uneasiness twisting in his gut. Suffocating fear making him feel like he was choking and stealing the breath from his lungs. Second thoughts spiraling through his mind. Every nerve in his body felt like they had been shocked. Chills raced up and down his spine, making him shake uncontrollably.

Why?

Because when he had been in that ring, ridiculing Dean's title reign, he saw something snap inside the dirty blonde. That last thin thread of self-control broke. He'd become a completely different person in the matter of seconds. Blue eyes shifted from his usual craziness to a burning malice, rage and murderous intent. His body shook violently with every heated word and those tics, the vicious twitches had become more pronounced.

But that wasn't surprising.

Seth knew then that things were about to change when he saw his former shield team mate reach up and rub his temple. The funny, quirky Dean was gone. He'd been shoved back into the furthest recesses of the champion's mind. Another part had pushed it's way forward, refusing to be ignored any longer. A part of the other man that he'd only seen a glimpse of way back when they feuded in FCW.

The darkest, most disturbed and twisted part of the man standing across from him.

Jon Moxley.

It had chilled him to the bone to realize it. To know that he was suddenly staring face to face with the portion of his former friend that terrified him to his core. Look into eyes that were screaming nothing but bad intentions. Watch someone struggle so hard to control the urge to inflict pain and violence that it caused them to tremble. And to know in his heart and in mind that if he took Dean up on his offer for a match tonight that he was going to be ripped apart.

That was why he had backed off. Why he cockily said that he'd see him next week instead, that they would do it on his time. He needed to give Dean a chance to cool off, regain his composure and safely lock Moxley far, far away again. Seven days would hopefully be enough. There was no way that he'd even entertain the notion that it wouldn't happen.

Seth didn't want to do battle with Moxley. No way in hell. He'd gone to war with the fading shadow of the man five years ago and barely survived. Sometimes, he still had nightmares about that look that Dean would get in his eyes when Moxley was a little too close to the surface. To actually go one on one with the full fledged version would probably end him once and for all.

There were no lengths that Moxley wouldn't go to. No line that he wouldn't cross. He'd have no problem causing an injury or spilling as much blood as he could. Screams of agony were his drug of choice. Remorse wasn't something that existed in that sociopath's world.

Even if he somehow survived the encounter, he'd be mentally scarred for the rest of his life.

His phone pinged, signaling a new message and he grabbed it quickly. A frown twisted his lips as he saw Roman's name. He took a minute to decide whether or not he wanted to read what the suspended man had wrote because he knew that it wouldn't be anything that he wanted to hear. But he decided that he might as well get it over with and opened the text.

 _"You've just dug your own grave little brother."_

That frown deepened. Those words were direct but also cryptic. He stared at them for a long time, trying to figure out their meaning when his phone chimed again.

 _"I don't see you making it to Battleground."_

He had enough of that and fired back a response, asking what the hell that meant.

 _"You unleashed the monster and it's going to eat you alive on Monday."_

Seth dropped his phone like it was on fire, not caring if the damn thing broke from the impact. Fuck that. His mind was taunting him enough already. He really didn't need Roman doing it too. Especially when the Samoan had never faced down said monster himself.

He needed to get the hell out of there. Get as far away from that damn arena as he could. Maybe then he'd be able to calm down. Have his mind to start working the way he wanted it to again. Put that whole unpleasant situation behind him and focus on the opportunity that awaited him next Monday.

But deep down he knew that wasn't going to happen. That he wouldn't be able to let go of the fear until he stood across from Dean and saw that the man was back to his usual annoyingly off the wall self. That Moxley was firmly back under lock and key. Once again safely hidden in some closet in the deranged depths of the lunatic's mind. Never to be seen or heard from again.


	46. Flipped

**Author's Note: Well this came out a lot darker than I intended.**

 **Summary: Dean's POV after that amazingly chilling promo.**

* * *

 _July 11, 2016_

 _The switch had been flipped._

 _He felt the monster clawing at the restraints that kept him from escaping._

Dean made his way through backstage, lips twisted in a savage looking sneer and low, rumbling growls bubbling from deep in his chest. Fucking Rollins. That little bastard just kept provoking him like he had no sense of self-preservation. He couldn't wait to get his hands on him or rather around his throat. See if he was still able to talk shit as the life was being squeezed out of him.

 _While it wasn't the first time he had the urge, it was the strongest._

 _It had taken everything he had not to go for the little prick's throat tonight._

But that wasn't all that he wanted to do to the weasel. He wanted to hear him scream, watch him writhe in excruciating pain and whimper in agony as he was tortured. To see the fear in his eyes as he realized that he'd finally gotten what he deserved for poking the hornet's nest. Make his blood spill from his body and smear it on his own flesh as a trophy. Then stand victorious over the broken, bloodied man and revel in the brutality that he delivered as he held that championship belt up for the world to see.

 _It had been a long time since he felt like that._

 _Since he allowed himself to feel like that._

He'd been fighting against his darker impulses for years because he wanted to do this without being a madman. Ignoring the voice in his mind that told him that he needed to unleash it. Trying to tell himself that the part of him that desired hurting people was dead and buried. Convinced himself that he couldn't be appreciated for his wrestling ability and charisma if he ever allowed that side of him to come out. That it was better for everyone if he just went out there and concentrated on having fun because wrestling was supposed to be fun.

 _For a while, it worked._

 _Although there had been a few times where he'd let that side come out to play a little._

Seth always managed to get him to that place that he didn't want to go. Bray Wyatt counted on bringing it out in him, wanting a fight with someone as sick and twisted as the backwater hillbilly was. Brock had triggered it during there feud with his belief that he had no reason to fear him. Jericho learned the hard way that it was still inside him after he dared to strap him into a straitjacket. But none of those times could ever compare to how deeply he was dying to just carve a path of bloody destruction in his wake.

 _It must have been written on his face and in the way he moved._

 _Because with every step he took backstage, people scurried as far away from him as they could._

This scene took him back to his early days in FCW. When he arrived there he was still an unhinged, obsessive madman with nothing but chaos in his mind and he showed it every chance he got. Anytime he was in the building, the seas would part as he walked down a corridor. People would avoid getting anywhere in his vicinity. They'd leave the locker room the second his bag hit the floor, opting to change someplace safer and no one wanted to get in the ring with him.

 _He enjoyed it._

 _Knowing that just the sight of you could invoke terror in people was a heady thing._

He'd seen that old flicker of fear tonight. In that ring. When he verbally unleashed all his pent up frustration and rage on Rollins. The other man had frozen, eyes wide and terrified as his instincts told him that it was safer to keep his mouth shut. No trace of the usual cockiness could be found in those glorious few minutes as he ran down exactly what he thought about things. Of course it was fleeting and Seth had regained his voice but he never regained his calm demeanor, turning down the match for that night and choosing next week.

 _The truth was that he didn't want to fight Dean when he was in that head-space._

 _Seth knew that if he did, it might be his last fight ever._

Because he was willing to go as far as he needed to keep what was his and right now, that title belonged to him. There was no doubt that he meant what he said about them having to pry that belt from his cold dead hands. He'd fight till the bitter end before ever letting it go. If that meant caving in that traitor's knee again or even his damn skull then he had no problem doing it. And come Battleground, if that meant destroying both his former brothers and leaving them in a crimson heap then so be it.

 _There'd be no remorse._

 _No hesitation._

The monster inside of him roared in approval. Craved the moments of delicious pain that he'd inflict. Took pleasure in the thought of bathing in their blood. Reveled in the notion of tearing them apart piece by piece until nothing remained. Wanted to prove to them and everyone who watched that he was still a dangerous man who'd stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

 _For the first time in a long time, he wasn't fighting the monster._

 _Dean was agreeing with it._

The WWE liked to say he was a lunatic, that he was crazy. Played up that he was unpredictable and completely unhinged. It did it's job and sold their merchandise. But when it came to actually having him live up to the monikers, they got scared to let him off the leash. Had him go out and do cheesy shit or play the damn wacky goof-ball instead because they were afraid of the alternative.

 _Maybe it was time to show them how crazy he could be._

 _To make them understand how a real lunatic behaved._


	47. Insight

**Summary: This one falls in with Promo, Deal and Pain but it's set right after Deal.**

* * *

 _July 26, 2011_

Seth looked at the piece of paper in his hand then at the run down, old apartment building in front of him. He was wondering if this was some sort of rib. The building was an eyesore, complete with an ugly series of fire escapes on the side. Cracked, discolored bricks made up the facade. Uneven, splintered pavement led up to badly patched up stone stairs that looked like too much weight would cause them to break apart. If the outside looked that bad then it was safe to assume that the inside probably hadn't been renovated since the sixties or seventies.

It was begging to be demolished.

By the warehouse where they trained and taped, there were three nice apartment complexes. Most of the guys training in FCW lived in those buildings. They usually shared the apartments with other trainees because it was cheaper that way and had the bonus of onsite amenities. As far as he knew, only Leakee lived any real distance away from the facility. But it made sense that he was renting a nice one family house since he had a live in girlfriend and a young daughter.

His eyes observed his surroundings and he frowned at what he saw, this wasn't a good neighborhood. Maybe it had been years ago but not anymore. Time had ravaged it and turned it into a blight. Everything was old and falling apart, yards overgrown and cracked pavement. Even the trees lining the street were twisted, scarred and looked dead, leaning perilously toward the street.

If a hurricane hit then this place was screwed.

He checked the paper again and sighed in disappointment. This was definitely the right address. Why the hell would Dean want to meet up here? The odd man said that he had something to do after they trained and that'd it be easier to meet up there but never said why. Hopefully this wasn't something shady that would end up with them being arrested. He didn't know Dean well enough to say for sure but he did seem like he could possibly be involved in some less than legal activities.

The knock at the window caught him off guard and he jumped, eyes flying to the sound and every muscle in his body tensing in fear. He relaxed slightly when he saw that it wasn't a really a threat to his safety. Taking a deep breath, he powered down the window with a slight scowl. "Trying to give me a heart attack man?"

Dean smirked, "Well you were sitting out here so long that I started wondering if something was wrong. Figured I should at least check to make sure you weren't dead."

"How'd you know how long I was out here?" His eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Cause I pulled up right after you." The dirty blonde inclined his head toward the rust spotted relic of a car parked behind him. "You never even noticed. I had enough time to take the pizza inside, get the drinks in the fridge and trap a spider under a garbage bag before I came back out."

"You live here?" He knew his voice betrayed his thoughts about the area and felt bad about appearing so judgmental. But it was hard to believe that anyone would pass up a nice, modern building in favor of this old eyesore.

"Yup," Blue eyes merely rolled and he got the sense that there was no embarrassment in that fact or the shabby neighborhood which he picked to reside in. "Home sweet home for now."

"Why didn't you move into one of the buildings closer to the warehouse?"

"Cause they cost a shitload and I'm a cheap bastard." An unapologetic shrug followed that declaration. "And I really didn't wanna have to have a roommate to be able afford a place."

Seth guessed he could see the logic in that line of thought. He really wasn't a fan of having roommates himself. But for him, feeling safe in his neighborhood was important so he couldn't imagine living someplace where he didn't just because it was cheaper. So he put up with sharing his space with two other guys. Plus it was nice to live someplace where there was a gym right on the premises, saved him from having to venture out when he was feeling lazy.

Dean leaned down, forearms resting on the open window, eyes locked on him. "Gonna get out and come in or you wanna cancel our promo class till tomorrow and we can do it at the warehouse?"

"Nah, I'm coming in." He unbuckled his seatbelt and looked at the other man who hadn't moved in exasperation. "Might want to step back, got to put the windows up and open the door."

Again those blue eyes rolled but he did step back, allowing him to close the windows, get out, lock the doors and turn on his alarm. He followed the dirty blonde to the fire escapes and paused, looking at the man in confusion. "Why aren't we using the main door?"

There was a mocking laugh, "Cause you run the risk of breaking your damn neck every time you try to walk up or down the front steps. Fucking things are a hazard. Loose, sloped and liable to crumble under too much weight."

Well that confirmed what he thought when he saw them. Damn place was a death trap waiting to happen. That didn't exactly make him feel any safer than the run down neighborhood did. Hopefully this wouldn't be a common meeting place. But he followed along as they went up one flight of the rusty old fire escape then climbed into the open window.

"C'mon, I'll give you the five second grand tour." It was said jokingly as he spread his arms wide and smirked. "Welcome to my very humble abode."

Seth was confused as he looked around the place.

The apartment was only one room.

A tiny little section that passed as a kitchen. There was a stove that was probably twenty years old, sink that leaked, fridge that hummed loudly, coffeemaker and microwave on one side of the pace. Cabinets that had no doors and had been mounted unevenly sat above the small three foot counter that housed the appliances. A cracked, battered island with two bar type stools across from it. The garish laminate top buckled and peeling due to age.

What would be the living room and bedroom only had a couch that had seen better days but definitely wasn't long enough to sleep on. The coffee table was discolored, numerous condensation rings stripping it of the ugly faux wood paint that someone had used to try to make it look better. There was only an old credenza to use as storage space. An antiquated TV was perched in the corner on a rickety looking cart. Beneath his feet was shag carpet that had seen better days.

The bathroom was the only separate room in the place but visible due to the door being open. It was a tight, closet sized space that barely fit the toilet, sink and small shower. The space was so confined that looked like the other man wouldn't be able to fit into. He couldn't imagine trying to squeeze into it. Had no clue how Dean who was slightly bigger and broader than him managed the task.

It was hot inside the modest space. No air conditioner to be found. But it was surprisingly tidy even though it hardly looked lived in. There were no pictures or other personal memento's strewn about. Nothing that allowed you to gain any further insight into the eccentric man.

There were several pieces of garbage bags taped securely to the wall in various spots and he raised an eyebrow at that, turning to face the other man. "You into that whole weird abstract art thing?"

"Nope." He opened the pizza box and pulled out a slice, plopping it down on the paper plate the restaurant had provided. "That's my spider containment system."

Seth blinked at that, "Why don't you just kill them?"

"And risk having their fucking giant mother or father decide to show up and get revenge on my ass for killing their kids?" He shook his head quickly. "Fuck that man. I'm good."

He didn't mean to laugh at that. Not really. But it wasn't his fault that he was chuckling like a madman. The realization that tough as nails, crazy enough to participate in death matches and tournaments, human equivalent of a pit-bull Dean Ambrose was scared of spiders was hilarious to him. Between the simple way he lived and that little tidbit, it gave him a lot of insight into the man behind the façade.

"Laugh now asshole." It was sneered around a mouthful of pizza. "Cause you won't be laughing when we start working on your promos."

Seth smirked. "And you, my arachnophobia challenged rival, will not be laughing when I get you inside a gym."


	48. Class

**Summary: Follows Promo, Deal, Insight and Pain**

* * *

 _August 4, 2011_

Seth wondered if this was what hell was like.

For once, he wasn't referring to Dean's stiflingly hot and uncomfortably humid, run down, claustrophobic, death trap of an apartment. He'd gotten used to it since his first visit for the most part. Could block it out and pretend that it didn't bother him. Although, if this deal worked out and he improved enough on his promo's that it got the brass off his back, he was seriously considering buying the man a damn air conditioner as a thank you gift. He wasn't sure that it would fit in the only other window in the place, the one that the dirty blonde didn't use as his entrance but whatever, it was the thought that counted.

His current hell was this damn piece of paper in his hands.

Not once had he made it though the first line on the paper without messing it up. He was at his most self-conscious and felt ridiculous standing there and stumbling his way through the promo they'd give him to do. It was disconcerting to feel the heat of that annoyed blue glare trained on him as he once again screwed it up and had to start over. Every time it happened, there was an angry huff that came from the man occupying the couch or a shake of his head in disgust. And he knew that the dirty blonde was wondering why the hell this was so hard since it came so easily to him.

He tripped over the words again and sighed, preparing to start over for the twelfth time, not an exaggeration, since they began their promo class. But before he could, he was interrupted by a loud, ear splitting whistle.

Dean put down the beer he was drinking and held up his hands. "Fuck, just stop for minute. This is getting pathetic and I need a break before my head explodes."

"What?" His voice was painfully close to a whine. "I'm doing my best but this just doesn't make sense."

"Let me take a look." The paper was snatched out of his hands and a frown bloomed on the older man's face. Like he didn't see the issue. Which, knowing the dirty blonde antagonist, he probably didn't. Arrogant bastard. "What's the problem? This is pretty cut and dry to me, emphasis on dry."

"It doesn't really matter how it comes across to the audience. They're just words." Seth argued, annoyed at the insinuation. "The real money moment is our little face off anyway."

Blue eyes rolled and there was some weird head wiggle of disapproval. "Well champ, you need people to be awake when that happens. That ain't gonna happen if you bore them into a coma before we get there."

He felt the quip hit deep. Because Dusty had pretty much said the exact same thing to him during class. Of course it wasn't phrased so hurtfully when the Dream said something similar to him, no it was more disappointed constructive criticism then. But that was why he proposed this deal to Dean, because he knew that he'd hear nothing but the unfiltered, brutal truth. No matter how it bad it stung to hear or how much the cruel the words made him want to curl up into a ball.

Taking a deep breath, Seth arched an eyebrow. "Blame that on whoever wrote it."

"Nah," A shake of his head followed that. "They only write the shit. It's not up to them to get the audience to listen, to hang on and care about every word. That's your job. You got to take whatever the hell is written and sell the fuck out of it."

"How do I do that?" He shot back. "Huh? How can I do that when the only thing I can think about is having to look into that camera while standing there with the people in the audiences eyes on me."

"Simple, you need to get over it." It was sharp, commanding. "Cause if you can't then get ready to get your ass sent back to nowhereville Iowa during the next round of cuts."

He froze, heart pounding in his chest, wide eyes shooting to the other man. "No, they wouldn't cut me because of this."

"Why not?" The dirty blonde challenged, casually taking a sip of his beer. "Tell me why you repeatedly fucking up and not delivering on an important aspect of our job is something that they'll continue to overlook?"

"Because they know what I can bring every time I step in that ring."

That apparently amused his tormentor because he snorted derisively. "Yeah, you and how many other guys in that warehouse?"

He felt like he was punched in the gut.

But Ambrose continued before he could even think of a way to respond, looking at him like he was stupid. "That'll only get you so far. You want to make it to the big times then you have to stand out, not blend in. You have to bring everything you got to the table. Cause if you don't, Tyler Black will be back on the Indy scene faster than you can say pink slip."

"I-I…"

"Need to listen to me when I tell you not to think about the audience or the camera? To pick a fucking focal point and focus on that instead? Make this shit your own?" The smug bastard sat back, lifting his beer to his lips. "Or don't listen and make my job of stepping over you and onto the main roster a hell of a lot easier."

"Fuck you!"

"Uh-oh, did I strike a nerve princess?" Dean cajoled. "Get your panties all in a twist cause I've got the balls to lay it all out for you? Cause I don't kiss the great Seth Rollins ass like all those fucking sheep at the warehouse do?"

"You're an asshole."

There was a shrug, "Yeah, I am an asshole and I'm fucking proud to be one. But, and here's the important part, I'm an asshole who can wrestle and deliver one hell of a fucking promo, no matter how shitty the words on the paper are. So that makes me better than you princess."

"Just think about how good you'd be if you were in shape?"

Something sparked in those blue eyes but it wasn't the anger he was expecting. It was something that oddly resembled pride. "Good, get pissed off. You should be mad when someone comes into your turf and calls your ass out, says that you don't mean anything. Should want to rip them apart and their name should sound like the filthiest curse when it leaves your mouth."

Seth eyes narrowed and he felt the anger surging up in him.

"Take everything you feel toward that person and make every word on that paper paint an exact picture of how you feel about that person to everyone in the arena and everybody watching on TV." Dean finished his beer. "You can't be afraid to let loose. To just stand there and say fuck you to the person trying to take your spot."

"You're not getting my spot or my medal." The words were confident and heated.

The dirty blonde smirked and sat back, handing him his paper. "Don't tell me. Tell the world."


	49. Ambush 7

**Summary: Next part of the Ambush arc. I'm going to caution that this isn't very nice to Roman. So if you don't like that, don't read it.**

* * *

This sucked.

Those assholes that Dean once foolishly called his brothers had actually taken him hostage. He couldn't believe this shit was really happening. But being bound to a chair and having his mouth taped shut proved that it was. Who the fuck took someone captive just because that person didn't want to listen to more bullshit and lies? Either they had lost their damn minds or they had spent way too much time watching crappy ass movies that led them to believe this was a good idea and that it was going to work out the way they wanted it to.

It wasn't and it wouldn't.

When he got free and he would, he was going to kill them. Not quickly or humanely either. No, he was gonna make the assholes suffer and scream in pain. He was pretty sure that it would be considered justifiable homicide since they were holding him against his will. But on the off chance it wouldn't fall into that category, he had no problem with offing them, waiting until dark then driving out to the desert and burying them someplace no one would ever find them.

There were plenty of good options for that.

After all, lots of people went missing in Vegas and were never found. They'd just be two more names on a long list that dated back to the beginning of the city. Sure, their names would be pretty big additions but it would just add to whole mystique of the town. Shirts, pins and hats proclaiming that this was were the two former champions were last known to be would bring a lot of needed revenue for the city. They could use it to pay to fix some of the damn potholes that drove him crazy.

He shook himself out of his thoughts and trained his eyes on his captors.

The moron twins were conversing, stealing nervous looks at him. They'd avert their gaze quickly when they saw him glaring at them. Ok, so he giving them the most vicious look that he could manage. He was mentally hoping that the expression if looks could kill would suddenly come to pass. If it did, it would save him a lot of time, effort and clean up.

Blood was a bitch to get out of carpeting.

Dumb and dumber finally broke their huddle, looking pleased with their stupid asses on whatever decision they came to.

Roman stepped forward, apparently being chosen to go first on this kamikaze mission. He took several deep breaths, his brown eyes locking on the burning blue gaze. "You've got to know that when I say that we're brothers, I mean it. No, it's not by blood. It's by choice but it's every bit as real and strong as a blood bond is."

Dean rolled his eyes, wishing he could scream bullshit.

But since he couldn't, the Samoan man continued. "I never meant for things to get so strained between us. I know that it's gonna sound like a lame excuse but everything with work was getting to me. Being around you, listening to the fans shower you with cheers, it just drove it home that no matter how hard the company tries, the fans are never gonna to come around to the notion of me being the chosen one. That the best I'll ever be able to hope for is a split reaction like Cena gets."

Again the dirty blonde rolled his eyes.

Yup, that was lame, like really fucking lame. Roman should be able to tune that bullshit out and focus on his job. It was also lame that it sounded like he was blaming Dean for the fact that the big dog couldn't get over and that he ditched him because of that. Like he had any power to change the way that people perceived others. Yeah, he was on the good side of the fans but he couldn't tell you how the fuck that happened let alone how to get them to react the same way.

"I was also afraid."

That confused the hell out of him. Which wasn't his fault because so far, this whole thing really didn't make a lot of sense. What did the other man have to be afraid of? Being booed? That Vince would dethrone him? Being demoted to the land of jobbers or released?

"I don't know what to do or how to handle it when you fixate on someone. You go to this dark, twisted place where you only care about hurting someone. It doesn't matter to you what it does to you or what it might cost you."

Wow, again with being blamed.

No wonder why people bitched about his promo's and how his interviews came off. The older man really did suck at this whole talking thing. Big time. Maybe he should give being mute a try for a while. Might work out a lot better for him in the long run. At the very least, the fans would probably appreciate it.

Maybe he'd help it along by crushing his larynx.

"And that terrifies me man because you should care. You're not on your own anymore, haven't been for a long time. There are people that care about you and don't want to see you go back down that road because you think you have to." The was a sigh. "You're so talented and charismatic. There's no need to rely on your flair of violence to get you to the top because you're already there and have been for a long time. Even when you didn't have the title, you were a champion in the eyes of the fans."

Jesus, this was starting to feel like some weird ass fucking intervention.

Just say no to standing up for yourself when a beast or an ego manic comes at you, to using violence to even up the odds. Forget street fights and cage matches. Resist the temptation of weapons and the urge to draw blood. Ignore the call of we want tables from the audience. Pretend that the part of you that thrives on all that destruction and chaos has no control over you anymore. That you're not as happy making someone bleed as you are to hoist that WWE Championship over your shoulder.

"I should have tried to talk to you about it but I knew how it would go. You'd just blow it off with a laugh like you always do with things you don't want to hear. Tell me that you'd be fine. So I distanced myself because I couldn't stand by idly as I watched you fall back into that trap."

Dean really wanted to scream. So he tried. But it was nothing more than a muffled, indiscernible sound thanks to the damn duct tape across his mouth. This was such a fucking crock of shit. Maybe if he jerked his head back fast enough that would make the chair topple over backwards into the wall and knock him out.

Being unconscious would be better than this.

"I never meant to abandon or hurt you." Roman's tone screamed regret. "And I'm really sorry because that's what ended up happening. You're my little bro and I hate not having you in my life."

Fuck, this was getting way too fucking hallmark moment for his taste. He tried to enact his plan to render himself unconscious but the damn thing didn't move. Fucking piece of shit chair! Any other time that he'd try this, he was willing to bet that the damn thing would hit the deck. But wasn't it just his shitty luck that the one time he needed it to do what he expected, it wouldn't.

Bitch ass traitor chair.

"I know that you probably don't believe me or trust me right now but I want the chance to prove to you that you can. That I am and will always be as committed to this brotherhood as the day we decided to become family. You ever need me and I will always be there, no matter what time or day or night it is."

Dean scoffed against the tape. What was he supposed to do? Be happy that despite his personality that the big dog was sticking with him? Tear up in relief? Tell him that he understood? That he was sorry that he was so hard to deal with and promise to be a good little boy from now on?

That wasn't going to happen any time soon.


	50. Ambush 8

**Author's Note: Battleground's tonight, don't know whether I'm excited for it or dreading it. Anyway, just another heads up that Dean's thoughts about Seth in this chapter are not very kind at all. If it offends you, don't read it.**

* * *

Dean rolled his eyes when Roman stepped aside looking satisfied with what he'd said for some unknown reason and nodded at Seth. Damn it, he was really hoping that they'd changed their minds and Roman's horrible attempt at a mea culpa had been for the both of them. But obviously that wasn't the case and he sighed against the tape. The high flier really could live up to the never shuts up catch phrase that he had used last year. Which meant that he wasn't going to get out of this damn chair any time soon.

Fuck, this really sucked.

Seth stepped forward, looking wary even though he was bound and gagged. His eyes closed for a second and he nodded to himself. That was a mannerism that was known all too well. It meant that the traitor was collecting his thoughts and organizing his talking points of which there were many no doubt. He nodded again and opened his eyes, fixing his pathetically contrite gaze on him.

Sorry bitch, Bambi eyes didn't work on him.

"I made a lot of mistakes and a lot of bad decisions." He let out a breath. "Too many to possibly name right now or we'd be here for days."

No shit.

Nice to see that he was going with the same state the obvious tact that Roman had so stupidly employed. They must have practiced their sorry ass apologies while they were at the gym or something. Maybe the scum of the earth would even join the Samoan in the blame game. Putting every crappy ass choice and all his sketchy as fuck behavior on Dean's shoulders. After all, that was right up the asshole's scummy alley to do that instead of manning up and owning it.

"I have no excuse for that other than my own foolish desire to prove that I belonged at the top of the company, that I was more than just the architect of the Shield. I let it affect me personally, pushing you guys away because I thought that you'd hold me back. I let it color the way I looked at and the way I treated you guys when we weren't on camera." The darker haired man paused, collecting himself. "Then my injury happened and I had a lot of time to realize how badly I screwed up, how stupid I was to let go of the two best friends that I ever had in this business just for the chance to be the man."

Oh for fuck's sake.

This was nothing that he didn't fucking know already. Didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what motivated the weasel to become a corporate stooge on TV. Or him turning into a class A asshole off it. It was a story as old as fucking time in their business, hell everywhere you looked you saw it play out again and again. Dean just didn't have any fucks left to give about the sellout's big epiphany or his sudden desire to make things right between them.

"We were brothers. Always had each other's backs and looked out for one another." Seth sighed, his eyes getting glassy. "I never should have thrown that away. Shouldn't have let my doubts and fears override what I knew in my heart."

Well this was getting uncomfortably fucking mushy.

Dean did not deal well with emotional people. At all. He detested sappy situations, they made his skin crawl. Hated when people fucking cried over shit like it would make things better because it didn't and never would. Maybe if he held his breath, he could pass out before the younger man started sniveling.

"God, you don't even know how hard it was to stand in that ring and tear everything we shared to shreds. To say that I never cared about you and that you two were just business associates."

Yeah right.

He was real sure that he'd been all torn up about it. So broken up that he fucking repeated it every time there was a microphone in his hand or a camera in his smug fucking face. Looked real fucking sad when he screwed them over repeatedly. When he did everything he could to keep them from succeeding. And the younger man really showed so much remorse over his actions when he fucking curb-stomped his head through fucking cinderblocks.

"And you don't know how bad it hurt every time we'd pass each other and pretend that we were nothing but strangers. When I'd look over see you glaring at me like I was the biggest scumbag in the world. I felt terrible." The former two toned man sniffled and wiped at his eyes.

Cry him a fucking river.

Dean knew better than anyone that life was tough and you reaped what you sowed. What goes around comes back around in the end to bite you in the ass. Act like a jackass and people were going to treat you like one. Push people away and they weren't going to welcome you back with open arms. Screw over your best friends, the guys that were like brothers to you, then don't be surprise when they tell you to go fuck your lying ass self.

"I know that you don't have a reason to believe me. Can't blame you for that. But I am sorry and want to fix things."

Too bad.

That ship had sailed a long time ago. Probably right after his head was driven through a pile of cinderblocks. It wasn't a heat of the moment incident, it was planned. Done with the intent to end his career and with no worry that even worse, it could have cost him his fucking life. There was no way in hell that he'd ever forgive the bastard for going to those extremes and never once even trying to apologize for it or showing the slightest bit of guilt for what could have happened.

Not to mention that he found out that Seth was the one who had unleashed Bray Wyatt on him so it would end their feud. Paid the man a pretty penny to have him interfere in Hell in a Cell. Told him all the deep dark secrets of Dean's past that the psycho cult leader spilled to the world. Yeah, Bray may be sick and twisted but he had enough guts to admit it. But the so called architect had never come clean with that information and he probably never would.

"It'll take time but I'm willing to wait."

Rollins would be waiting until the day he died then.

Dean really wished that he'd hurry this up. His arms and legs were cramping from being bound to this damn chair. The tape covering his mouth was starting to itch. He was fucking hungry since he tossed the food they brought with them in the trash. Plus, he really needed to take a damn shower. The dried sweat on his body from his run and climb was annoying him.

"I love you man. You're my big brother and I need you in my life."

There were the waterworks.

It sickened him how easily the smarmy prick was able to cry on command. How he thought some bullshit declaration of love and family would let him off the hook. They wouldn't. The bastard could cry until he drowned in his phony tears and he could claim that he loved him and that he was sorry until he was hoarse or got laryngitis. But hollow, meaningless words would never make up for the things he did and the things he did but wouldn't admit to.

"I know that you're pissed right now, that you're probably sitting there and plotting our gory deaths." Seth looked extremely nervous at that prospect. "But all Roman and I want is a chance to prove ourselves to you. The opportunity to earn back your trust and your friendship. Even if we're never as close as we used to be, it'll be alright as long as we're allowed to be in your life as something more than co-workers."

Why should he allow that?

He'd let down his guard and invited them into his life once before. Treated them like the family he never had but always wanted. Hadn't done anything but be there for them whenever they needed him. Trusted their lies, allowed himself to care for them, believed that they'd always have his back no matter what the business threw at them. Only to end up being screwed over and left behind like he always was.

"We're going to cut the tape and let you go." The darker haired man raked his teeth over his bottom lip worriedly. "We were desperate for a way to make you listen and this was the only way we could think of to make sure it happened. I know that we don't really deserve it but if you could do us a favor and not call the cops or kill us, that would be great."

Dean just rolled his eyes again, knowing that he wouldn't make any promises.


	51. Ambush 9

**Author's Note: So Dean hasn't been very nice in his thoughts toward his former brothers in the last few chapters. I wouldn't expect that to change at all now that he can talk again. So once again, if you can't deal with that then you probably want to avoid this chapter.**

* * *

Dean kept his mouth shut while the two morons he once called his brothers freed him from the duct tape. He ripped the tape off his mouth, cursing as it took pieces of his day old stubble with it. It stung like a bitch and made his eyes water. Standing, he stretched to work the kinks out of his body. Without warning, his foot lashed out and kicked the chair he had been confined in, sending it toppling to the floor with a loud crash.

That caused his unwanted company to jump, startled by the action but he didn't care. He could feel their eyes on him as he paced back and forth. His agitation was off the charts right now. Hands started roughly pushing through his sweat tangled locks. Low, angry growls nipped at his lips.

"Dean," Roman's voice. Soothing. Fucking Placating. "Calm down man."

That made him laugh. But there was no humor in it. Just a sharp edginess that made it sound like he had broken glass in his mouth. It made them flinch. He leaned against the counter, slouched and fixed manic blue eyes on them.

"Get out." The words tumbled from his mouth in a guttural snarl that was more animal than human.

Seth swallowed, his face betraying his unease but he didn't make a move. "No, we made you listen to us. Now we want to hear what you have to say. The truth, not the heel promo you gave us this morning."

Roman nodded in encouragement, arms folded across his chest. "I think it'll make you feel a lot better to get it off your chest."

Oh yeah. He'd feel great telling them exactly what he thought about that brilliant fucking performance they put on. In excruciating detail. But it would feel even fucking better if he was to lunge at them, wrap his twitching hands around their throats and choke the life out of them. His hands once again twitched in anticipation of doing just that and he shifted, placing his weight on his back leg to get enough spring.

"I know what you're thinking but there's two of us. One of us would pin you down before you could do too much damage." The Samoan informed him flatly, ever observant eyes on his movements. "So you might as well forget that and just start talking."

Blue eyes narrowed to slits. Ok, since they were begging to hear what he thought, well, he'd give it to them. Unfiltered. No holding back. "I think that was a complete waste of fucking time. Forcing me to sit through that and listen to your feeble excuses for apologies. Think that would prove to me that I could trust you guys again? No way in hell…"

"What?" Seth croaked, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Stop interrupting me!" He yelled, eyes flashing warningly which made them both take a step back slightly. "Now where was I? Oh yeah. What you two idiots did just killed any sliver of trust that I might have had left and kidnapping me sure as hell didn't make me think that you care about me at all."

"It wasn't kidnapping! We needed you to hear us out! But you wouldn't sit down with us rationally and listen." Roman actually managed to be something other than stoic in that moment. "So we had no choice but to do this. It was our last desperate shot at being able to salvage our brotherhood.."

That made him chuckle but there was only seething anger behind the sound. "Oh, I know it was desperate. The whole thing smacked of it. With every justification you gave and every time you blamed me for why you turned your back on me Rome, I could sense the desperation."

The Samoan blinked, obviously taken aback that he wasn't getting his ass kissed.

Dean's hands flexed then curled into tight fists. "It ain't my fault that that the fans eat you alive. You have no one to blame for that but yourself. They can tell a fraud when they see them. But then again, what do you care? What was it you said in that interview a few months back?"

Roman opened his mouth to protest but he quickly cut him off before he could come up with some bullshit excuse about how Sam Roberts took that out of context.

"Oh yeah. At the end of the day, you're just a guy getting rich. Great thing to say to make the fans believe that you don't give a damn about this business, that it's all about the money for you." He shook his head, still chuckling cruelly. "They really need to stop letting you talk. You suck at it. Seriously. You're much better at just standing there and looking intimidating. Go back to that and maybe, just maybe, people will stop wishing that you'd disappear off the face of the Earth."

The older man looked like he'd just been sucker punched. His cheeks were stained red in embarrassment. Mouth hung open. Eyes squeezed shut as if he was fighting pain. Chest rose and fell rapidly with every deep breath he sucked in.

Bet he wished that he never insisted that they talk about this.

Dean didn't feel an ounce of remorse. "After the weasel stabbed us in the back, I stupidly believed that you and I were tighter than ever. You claimed that nothing could ever break our bond, that we were family. I fucking swallowed it all up. Then you win the belt back from Triple H and proved that you're nothing more than a liar like everyone else who told me that they'd always be there for me then dropped me like a bad habit because I'm too much for them to handle or I'm too dangerous to be around."

"That was uncalled for." Seth spoke up, obviously not wanting him to unleash anymore venom on the eldest member of the trio. "I get it. You're lashing out. But Roman didn't do anything to deserve your malice. I did. So come on man, unleash it and don't hold back."

"Oh don't worry Rollins, it's your turn now." He cracked his neck and offered the younger man a smile that was sharp as a razor blade. "It must have taken a lot for you to finally apologize for all the petty, sneaky, shady ass things I know you did and for your pathetic but predictable reasons for doing them. I know that you hate having to ever admit that the great architect was wrong."

"I meant every word." Seth calmly said. "I couldn't be any sorrier than I am for everything that happened and the way it happened."

He tilted his head, "Maybe that's true but it's funny that you didn't apologize for what you did that I'm not supposed to know about."

The high flier froze, his entire body going rigid and his complexion paling significantly.

"Oh yeah brother…I know everything. All the dirty details." His tone was savage and the grin plastered to his lips matched it. "Seems you get a few drinks into good ol' Bray and he becomes really chatty. Didn't know you two spent so much time together after you betrayed me and Roman. But I guess you needed someone to vent to who wouldn't look at you like the piece of trash you truly are."

Roman seemed to snap out of his stupefied daze at that but looked confused. "What are you talking about?"

"I-I-I can explain." Seth stuttered helplessly, knowing that he'd been busted but obviously trying to find a way to spin it.

"Nah, I'll do it." His glare dared the younger man to refuse his offer. "You know why Bray came at me, how come he knew so much about my personal life?"

The Samoan glanced at the man next to him, looking disgusted. "Please tell me you didn't."

They'd had their time to talk. It was Dean's turn now and he planned to lay it all out for the two men. "Oh but he did! Paid that backwoods hillbilly to make sure that I lost the Hell in the Cell match so my attention would shift away from this loser. Then to make sure that Bray kept me interested in tearing him apart, our so called little brother filled him in on all the sordid little gems from my past."

"I had to get you to stop coming after me." The architect offered weakly, looking like he was about to cry again. "Getting you to focus your rage on someone else was the only way that I could think of..."

Blue eyes narrowed, "I get paying Bray off to target me. But telling him shit that I told you when I thought you were my brother and that you promised to never use against me is about as low as you can go."

Roman looked crestfallen at realizing exactly how shady the other man's behavior had really been. "I can't believe you'd do that."

Seth was tearing at his hair, "I wasn't thinking clearly! Dean kept coming at me and wouldn't let me have moment to breathe. So I paid Bray to interfere and yeah, I screwed up and told him things that I shouldn't have. But I never intended for it to hurt you."

"Just like you never intended to hurt me when you drove my head into the announce table then cinderblocks?" He volleyed, licking his lips. "Damn, I'd really hate to see what you'd do if you did want to hurt me."

"I wish I never did that." The youngest man closed his eyes. "I don't know what the hell I was thinking. To do something like that to someone I care about…"

"Oh please," Dean sneered. "You don't care about me. Never have. I was nothing more than a means to an end and once the Shield accomplished everything it could, you didn't have any use for me anymore. So you figured that you'd do whatever it takes to get rid of me once and for all."

"No, that's not true!" Seth stubbornly insisted.

"But now that you've returned from your injury and there's no authority, you need someone to watch your back again. Because you know that you made a lot of enemies last time. You've got a bulls-eye on your back and figured that if you could worm your way back into my good graces that I'd help you. Fight your battles for you again so you didn't have to get your hands dirty."

"That's not why I'm trying to fix things." He shook his head, looking devastated. "I need to mend things because you're my brother!"

"No! I'm not!" Dean went in for the proverbially kill. "And I never will be. There's no chance that I'll forgive you or forget what you did. That goes for both of you. But don't guys, what goes around always comes back around. You'll get what you deserve in the end."

"I'm sorry!" Seth looked distraught. "I know it's hard to believe but I am. If I could take it all back, I would. I wish I could go back and stop myself from doing those things but I can't. All I can do to make up for it is to show you that I've changed, that I regret everything and wouldn't be stupid enough to ever make those same choices again."

"Nah, you're just sorry that you've been exposed for the lying, conniving, pathetic piece of shit that you really are." He had enough of this. "Now, leave. Neither one of you are wanted or welcome here anymore and you'll never be again."

Seth looked like he had gone into shock and couldn't move but Roman grabbed his arm and started pulling him to the door.

"Oh Roman!" Dean called, "Might want to hand over my spare key. You won't be needing it anymore."


	52. Invite

**_Author's Note: This follows Cookout and it's back in the FCW days. I forgot that I never added this and decided that since this series has gotten so angsty lately that it would be a good piece to lighten things up._**

* * *

 _July 10, 2011_

Dean threw his gear in his bag, happy that the week was finally over and he had an actual day off tomorrow. No training or working out. He hadn't been chosen to do street team this week. There were no promo classes. That was why he planned to make the most of it by not doing a damn thing.

Ok, so he might actually have to do some laundry since most of his clothes were currently sitting in a hamper and had been for about two weeks. Once that was done, he was going to grab some beers and sit his ass on the couch for the rest of the day. If he was lucky, he could find a marathon of crappy d-movies to keep him entertained. Or maybe he'd just pull out a book and spend the day curled up with it. Either way, it was exactly what he needed.

He'd turn his damn phone off. Ignore any Jehovah witness or girl scout that dared to ring his bell. Throw on an old t-shirt and stay in the boxer shorts he wore to bed like he was teenager again. Make a big bowl of popcorn and order pizza. Lose himself in the rare normalcy of it all and enjoy it completely.

The sound of a throat clearing caught his attention and he looked up, seeing Seth staring at him with a raised eyebrow. The darker haired man gave a slight smile now that he was sure that he had the dirty blonde's attention. "I said your name like four times man. Was starting to worry that you'd lost your hearing or something."

"Yeah?" He shrugged, "Sorry, lost in my thoughts about having an actual day off."

Seth nodded, taking a seat on the bench across from him. "Got big plans?"

"Yup," He popped the p with a grin. "Going to do a whole lot of nothing and love every damn minute of it."

"Ah and here I was I was about to ruin those amazing plans by inviting you to come hang out tomorrow. Silly me." A chuckle left the slightly younger man's mouth. "I'm having a few people over. Nothing big like Leakee's party on the 4th. I mean, I don't have the room to roast a whole pig after all."

"Damn, that's a deal breaker."

"But I do have the best TV and sweetest Karaoke set up out of anyone on the roster." Seth boasted proudly. "Not to mention that my microwave popcorn skills are legit."

This was something that he wasn't used to. Any place he wrestled before, except HWA, people never really hung out together on non-show days. Here, it seemed like it was a common occurrence. But his interest was piqued. Because the last time he accepted an invitation, he didn't end up hating it. He'd play it cool though, not act too enticed by the unexpected invitation. "Oh?"

"Just a few guys just hanging out, drinking beer and eating pizza before it'll end up breaking out into a karaoke or video game tournament like usual." The high flyer shook his head with a laugh. "Got to tell ya man, you really haven't lived until you've seen Husky do his best Tom Petty impersonation or Xavier play a game, they're both so intense about it."

Dean grinned at that, picturing the scene in his head. "That almost sounds too good to pass up."

"Enough to give up a day of nothing?" An eyebrow quirked at that. "And spend it with your arch enemy?"

"Well I'd just be doing it to find something to use against you."

The younger nodded solemnly, "Of course."

"Unless you wanna make it easier on both of us, spare me from having to interact too much with you and just tell me your deepest darkest secret right now." One shoulder shrugged nonchalantly and he schooled his features. "That way I could work it into my promo at this week's taping."

"Tempting but I can't help you discover dirt on me." Seth winked, "Cause there's no dirt to be had or skeletons in my closet."

"Damn and I really like skeletons." Dean pretended to pout. "Oh well, guess I'll just have to make shit up."

"All I ask is that you make it really good and scandalous." Seth implored. "If I'm going to be a freak or a closet psycho then I want to be the biggest one that ever lived. I'm talking so big that I'd have followers who'd build me a shrine."

"Eh, that's plan B." He waggled his eyebrows. "I'm sure that a night of hanging at your place would give me plenty of real ammo."

"So what are you saying man?" He heaved a fake sigh, "That I should cancel the goat sacrifice because you've decided to accept?"

"Shit, like I'd tell you if I'm coming or not." The dirty blonde waved a lazy hand in dismissal, smirking at their banter. "That'd kill the element of surprise."

"Ah so you want me to look over my shoulder constantly, wondering if you're going to be there."

Dean nodded, "Exactly! A true villain never shows all their cards. It's all about the mind games man. We don't want our prey to suspect us. Want their guard down, them nice and relaxed before we go in for the kill."

"Damn that's disturbing but good to know."

"But say if I was going to crash this little party, what time is it kicking off?"

Seth leaned back on the bench, brow scrunched in thought. "Well as you so astutely pointed out, it is a rare day off and I need to catch up on my beauty sleep so around 4ish."

"It won't help." Dean taunted, throwing his bag over his shoulder as he stood. "Maybe I'll see you or maybe I won't. That's for me to know and you to find out."


	53. Highstakes 1

**Author's Note: This follows the Ambush Series and definitely doesn't follow storyline. Be forewarned, it's kind of dark at the beginning.**

* * *

 _August 21, 2016 2:15 am_

The annoying jangle of Dean's phone sliced through the unusually peaceful sleep he'd been having and pulled him out of it. He rubbed his eyes, briefly looking at the still darkened window. Who the fuck would be calling him at it's either too fucking early or too fucking late o'clock? A growl slipped from his lips and he blindly reached a hand toward the nightstand to fumble for the damn thing. His hand closed around it just as it stopped ringing and he rolled his eyes in annoyance.

Of course it would happen like that. Why should he expect anything less? A look at the display didn't tell him anything useful. The missed call had come from a number that he wasn't familiar with. All he knew was that it was definitely a New York area code.

He tried to call it back but a robotic voice informed him that incoming calls weren't accepted at that number. That was strange. His brow furrowed as he wondered what the hell kind of phone didn't take incoming calls. Maybe a payphone, they still existed right? Or an extension of a different number that you had to be transferred to?

Fuck it.

No use getting himself worked up about it. If it was important then whoever the hell had the balls to interrupt the best sleep he'd had in a long time would call back. If it wasn't important and they called back, then he was going to make the bastard pay. And if it turned out to be some wrong number, drunk dial or dumb ass prank call then he would make sure that they never dialed his number again. He had always been really effective at making sure that the person on the other end of the line regretted their choice.

He frowned, trying to remember if he had any media appearances scheduled for this morning. But nothing came to mind. As far as he could recall, the only commitment he had to worry about was the Make-A-Wish event he was scheduled to do in the afternoon before Summerslam with a select group of his co-workers. The only reason he remembered that was because two of the associates he was doing the event with were Roman and Seth. That meant that he'd have to suck it up, push aside his personal animosity toward them and plaster a smile on his face during the inevitable Shield pictures they'd be forced to take.

It was one thing to be in the ring with them. That was easy. They knew each other so well that they could wrestle each other in their sleep. It didn't need to be anything more than business and he made sure to keep it that way. He'd been approaching the mandatory planning sessions with them as coldly and professionally as he could ever since they'd pulled their ill-fated ambush.

There was no interaction between them anymore outside of talking about their matches. If they passed in the hallways of the arena, he ignored them. When they were in the gym at the same time, he pretended that they weren't there. He stayed as far away from them as he could manage on Tuesday nights when most of the superstars hit up a bar to celebrate the end of their work week. On the plus side, after this week finished, he wouldn't have to see them anymore except during the few joint PPV's the company ran now that he was on a different show than them.

That was something he'd been looking forward to since the Draft. The day when all his RAW commitments were done and he was finally free from the shadow of the Shield and the memories of the ties he shared with them. A fresh start. Clean slate. His chance to finally show what he was capable of by himself.

His hands roughly scrubbed over his face.

He needed to stop thinking about this, about them.

It was fucking ridiculous o'clock and he needed to get back to sleep. There was a long day ahead of him and he didn't need to be sleep deprived during it. His match with Dolph was already being looked at as a throwaway, just something to pass the time until he inevitably feuded with AJ Styles. Which sucked because he hated having filler matches, they always felt lackluster but there was no other option this time. The only good thing about the situation was that he got to step out of the baby face role and heel it up a bit.

With a groan, he put his phone down and got comfortable again. Just as he started dozing off, his phone rang again. He cursed loudly, grabbed the damn thing and hit accept, practically growling. "Hello?"

"Dean," The sound of Cesaro's voice threw him off. "Hey man, sorry to be calling this time of night."

"Uh hey, what's up?" His words were cautious, somewhat suspicious.

"There was an incident tonight and I felt that you should be told." The Swiss superman intoned tightly, a lot of background noise going on wherever he was. "I hate being the one to deliver bad news but someone has to do it I guess."

Dean had a bad feeling about what this call was going to reveal. Nothing good ever came out of late night conversations that started like this one. His heart was pounding painfully in anticipation and a sense of dread had created a yawning pt in his stomach. Propping the phone on his shoulder, he wiped his sweaty palms on the sweatpants he wore to bed. "Just don't think about it and tell me."

"Seth and Roman were in a car accident tonight."

Shit.

That hurt more than he thought it would.

It felt like a million pieces of glass stabbing into his body simultaneously. His eyes shut and he forced himself to breathe in and out slowly. Balling his trembling hands into tight fists, he let out a sigh that shook. "What?"

"A few of us went out to dinner. Seth and Roman drove together. They were a couple of cars in front of me, Sami and Kevin as we were driving back to the hotel. A taxi ran a stop sign, going really fast and crashed into them on the passenger side. The force caused the car to spin and hit a pole. The response was quick and they got them to the hospital very quickly. We've been here for about half an hour."

"Are they…" He couldn't finish that thought, didn't want to and as if to illustrate that point, his throat closed up on him. Clearing it with a couple of rough coughs, he changed tracks and took a safer approach. "How bad is it?"

"It's not great."

Yeah, he kind of figured that or else this conversation wouldn't be happening at all. "I meant how bad are the injuries?"

"Seth was driving. He's got whiplash, some broken ribs, a fractured shoulder and some nasty cuts and bruises."

Dean's hand splayed across his collarbone and his fingers started drumming agitatedly against the flesh. There was a reason that the other man had started with Seth's maladies and it instantly set him on edge. "And Roman?"

"The initial impact was on his side so he took the brunt of the hit." Cesaro informed him solemnly. "He's in emergency surgery right now. There was some internal bleeding that they've got to get stopped before we know the extent of the damage."

Fuck.

Just fuck.

His hand left his collarbone and tangled in his tousled mess of curls, pulling on it painfully as he climbed to his feet. There was no way in hell that he could just stay there knowing what he knew. He crammed his feet into his sneakers and grabbed his wallet and car keys, shoving them into the pocket of his sweatpants. "What hospital?"


	54. Betrayed

**Author's Note: So this came to me after what happened on Raw last night.**

* * *

 _August 29, 2016_

When Seth finally made it back to the locker room, he slid down onto the floor, his back against the door. He didn't understand what just happened. Couldn't even begin to comprehend why. It didn't make any sense. This was something that he never saw coming, never even thought could happen.

Because there was no reason to. He'd been nothing but loyal to Triple H and Stephanie for the last two years. Did everything and anything asked of him. Put everything on the line to succeed. Gave everything up in order to be the man and enjoyed the perks of being their chosen one.

 _ **"Betrayal sucks, doesn't it?"**_

So how the hell did they get here? Why did Triple H turn on him? Screw him out of the Universal title and gift it to Kevin Owens? Why was Stephanie pretending that she didn't know about it? Why would she go along with the decision to begin with?

He ran a shaking hand through his sweaty hair and closed his eyes. For once, he didn't have the answers. Couldn't even speculate on the why's and how's. His mind, usually so sharp and able to predict every outcome, was completely blank. It didn't make sense and he didn't know if it ever would.

 _ **"Karma is a bitch." A voice in his head intone almost gleefully. "Always gets you in the end."**_

His eyes squeezed tighter at that. That was not what he wanted to hear right now. This was different than what he had done, a lot different. Wasn't even close to being on the same level. His betrayal hadn't ripped everything they had been working for away from Roman and Dean.

They'd ended up benefiting from his actions in the long run. Gone on to be even more successful than they ever would have been in the Shield. Both of them have had Championship runs. Know exactly what it's like to be make it to the top and do whatever you needed to in order to stay there. They probably understand and thank him for doing what he did now.

 _ **"What goes around, always comes back around." That same annoying voice, that sounded a lot like Dean's, cajoled. "How's it feel to get a taste of your own medicine traitor?"**_

"Shut up!" He hissed, fists digging into his temples. "Just shut the hell up!"

Seth didn't want to hear this. Didn't want to think about the past. He just wanted answers. They owed him that much. It wouldn't make him feel any better or make him understand it but he deserved to know the truth.

 _ **"You didn't give answers sellout." It mocked him ruthlessly. "You were asked but you never answered."**_

He drew his knees up to his chest and laid his forehead on them. It needed to stop. This wasn't something he needed to deal with right now. Or at all. He'd made his peace with the decision he'd made two years ago, never regretted taking the opportunity that was offered to him.

It had been a business decision. Plain and simple. A way to do what was best for him and for his career. To live the dream he'd had since he was a child. Nothing more, nothing less.

 _ **"Ain't it time to stop lying to yourself?" The raspy voice hissed. "You did it because you were scared. Thought you'd be the forgotten member of the Shield."**_

He pulled himself to his feet and paced, hoping that movement would drive that taunting voice from his mind. Plus, he always thought better on his feet. His best ideas came to him when he was working out or running. Not when he was sitting around, feeling sorry for himself. Right now, he couldn't afford to feel sorry for himself.

There had to be a plan in place before Monday. For confronting Triple H. Because there was no way in hell that he was going to take this lying down. He wanted to stand face to face with the king of kings and hear the reason he betrayed him. The reason he discarded a solid business partnership.

 _ **"Cause you're not the man anymore." There was laughter in that gravelly tone. "You never really were. All you were was the means to an end and you outlived your usefulness to them. Couldn't deliver when it counted this time."**_

That statement froze him in his tracks. It couldn't be true, could it? He had proved how useful he was back then and once again at Money In The Bank. Came back from a career threatening injury in record time and dethroned Roman just like they wanted. Had that title in his hands and back in authority hands.

Wasn't his fault that Dean decided to live up to his usual boastful threat and cash in his briefcase after that grueling match. The dirty blonde just got lucky by sneaking up on him, cracking him in the head with the case, hit dirty deeds and pinned him. Battleground wasn't his fault either, Roman had been the one to eat the loss. As for Summerslam, that was a fluke. Nothing more than a determined newcomer feeding off crowd support and pulling an upset.

 _ **"Denial isn't just a river in Egypt." That infuriating voice ridiculed him mercilessly, taking pleasure in his downfall.**_

Seth grabbed the bottle of water sitting on the bench and chucked it with as much force as he could muster. This was unacceptable! He was the man, the future of this company. The architect who was always two steps ahead. Things like this weren't supposed to happen to him.

Then how come it did? Why hadn't he seen it coming? How could he ignore the fact that Triple H had a long history of betraying people he claimed to care about? That the man really had no loyalty to anyone but himself? How the phrase best for business could suddenly change to fit his needs?

 _ **"Because in life, you reap what you sow brother." The last word was laced with venom, thick and burning. "And what you just got was what you deserved."**_


	55. Highstakes 2

_August 21, 2016 3:30 AM_

Dean hadn't stopped pacing and angrily slapping his hands against his legs since he got to the hospital. He had long since tuned out Sami, Kevin and Cesaro imploring him to stop. The fact that they still hadn't heard anything about Roman, except that he was still in surgery, wasn't sitting well with him. Something had to be wrong. If it wasn't, then the older man would be out of the operating room by now.

"Dean," Cesaro's patient voice distracted him for a moment and he shot him a glare in response. But the Swiss superman was unfazed. "You should really sit down before you end up owing the hospital a new floor."

Blue eyes rolled and he ignored the suggestion. If he stopped, it wouldn't be good. It was better that he kept moving. That way he wouldn't hear that annoying voice in his head taunting him, telling him that this wasn't going to end well. He could keep it at bay if he kept moving.

It didn't help with his other problems though. Pent up anger and frustration coursed through his veins, burning like lava. He needed to find a way to unleash it. Soon. Before he lashed out at the next person who dared to speak to him and got himself kicked out of the hospital.

The doors opened and he stopped in his tracks. For a moment, he felt a rush of hope through his body that cooled the molten lava. But his face fell in disappointment as he saw that it was only an orderly wheeling a bandaged up Seth into the waiting area. He'd foolishly gotten his hopes up that it would be a nurse or doctor with an update about Roman when he should know better than that. With a muttered curse, he resumed his frantic pacing.

Seth looked surprised to see him there but quickly turned his attention to the other three men in the waiting room. "Any news?"

"Not yet." Sami's response was tired. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm ok." The youngest man sighed. "Be a hell of a lot better once we hear something."

The current champion growled at that, what little control he had rapidly dwindling. "If these asshole bother to remember that we're out here waiting. Gonna choke out the next fucker who comes in here and doesn't say anything about Roman's condition."

His statement made the atmosphere in the room even more tense than it had already been to start with. He was aware of looks being exchanged but didn't care. They probably thought he was crazy. That was nothing new. He'd known them all for years and they should be used to it by now.

Kevin stood suddenly, stretching. "I need to grab a drink. Anyone want one?"

Dean didn't bother to answer. Didn't want to or even care to. He just continued pacing and muttering threats and obscenities under his breath, his hands now clenching and unclenching. His head rolled side to side, neck cracking. Shudders danced through his frame, his emotions were all over the place and his mind really getting the better of him.

Sami got to his feet too, "I'll go with you."

"I'm going to the restroom." Cesaro added, following the other two men out of the waiting room.

That left him and Seth alone, which was no doubt their plan. He didn't want to be there with the younger man. Didn't know what to say or how to react. His anger was overriding his concern for his former little brother and he didn't want to lash out at him when he didn't deserve it for once. "I'm gonna go find someone who can tell me what the hell is going on."

He only made it a few steps before Seth's voice rang out, "Dean stop."

The dirty blonde froze, knowing that authoritative tone all too well. It had been something he heard many times when they were brothers. Used to keep him focused, calm him down or lay out his latest plan for the trio on how to deal with their enemies. His eyes closed and he reeled in a shaking breath. He was trying to control the impulse to turn around and level the former WWE champion with either a verbal tirade or a damn good right hook across the jaw.

"You need to calm down." Seth continued. "Getting yourself worked up will not help Roman. Neither will doing something stupid that will only end up with you being banned from this hospital."

He always resented how logical Seth could be even during the worst of times. How he could remain calm and thoughtful when their world was crashing down around them. Like he had a god damn switch that he could flip to turn his emotions off when he wanted or needed to. It was so frustrating. No matter how bad things looked, the architect always managed to keep his cool and come up with a plan.

Bastard.

Dean wished he had that ability. He prided himself on being tough, on having hardened himself due to the hell that was his life. But that all fell to the wayside when someone he cared about was hurt or in trouble. His emotions overwhelmed him then. Shattered all his carefully crafted walls and defenses, leaving him nothing more than a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode.

"Come here." Seth implored him, patting the seat next to his wheelchair.

He really didn't want to comply, wanted to ignore the command just to spite the other man. But his body betrayed him, crossing the room and dropping into the chair next to him without hesitation. The younger man's uninjured arm slid around his shoulders and he was pulled into an embrace. Their forehead's pressed together like they had many times through the years, forcing him to meet his former friend's unruffled gaze.

"Roman's going to be alright." Seth murmured lowly, brown eyes locked on his, fingers lightly rubbing his scalp to calm him like they had so many times before. "He's superman. Strong, loyal and determined. He'd never leave us alone because he knows that no matter what happened in the past, we'd be lost without our big brother."

He wanted to believe that. Desperately. But he knew all too well that life wasn't fair, that it didn't work the way you wanted it to. Had learned that painful lesson time and time again. Long since abandoned hope that it would work out how he wanted it to. "But what if he's not?"

"I know it's hard but you've just got to shut out those damn voices in your head that try to tell you otherwise and believe in your heart that he will be." Those brown eyes were earnest as they implored him. "Can you do that for me?"

It sounded so simple, so easy.

Too bad that it wasn't.

Never was for him and probably never would be. Anytime he was stupid enough to believe in something good, that things would different than before, something happened that proved him wrong. Showed him that he was right to be wary. That he was right not to trust people and the lies they tried to sell him. Confirmed that things would always go against him.

He had believed in his brothers. Fully and wholeheartedly. Was confident that they were being honest when they told him that cared as much about him as he cared about them, that they were more than friends, that they were family. But both of them had ended up destroying that. One by a calculated betrayal that almost killed him and one by an abrupt abandonment that left him devastated and feeling more alone in his life than he ever had before.

But right then and there, he wanted to believe that it wasn't the end.

Wanted to do nothing more than trust in what Seth said.

The problem was that he couldn't. Not even a little bit. He'd had his trust torn to shreds too many times over the last few years to even attempt to try. Been beaten down emotionally and physically every time he struggled to let himself believe that this time it would be different and that it paid to put forth any effort. Had his deepest darkest secrets and fears exposed in front of the world because he had been dumb enough to have faith in the notion that Seth and Roman would be different than the rest.

Dean reeled away from the embrace, getting up and putting much needed distance between them again. He couldn't blindly trust or believe in what he wanted to hear this time or ever again. That would only serve to come back and bite him in the ass. But he said nothing, not having it in him at that moment to crush a wounded man's hope so callously. He opted to resume his agitated pacing and muttering, using that as a distraction.


	56. Highstakes 3

_August 21, 2016 4:45 AM_

 _ **"We've encountered some complications…"**_

Those words echoed through Dean's head on a non-stop loop ever since the nurse came in to inform them. Complications. That was fucking vague. Didn't tell him anything really. Not even how serious those complications were and what they could mean in the long run for Roman and his life.

He started pacing quicker, muttering under his breath. Complications could be anything from they found another area that was bleeding to things weren't going well and they didn't know if they could stop it at all. None of the possibilities that were running through his head were very good. As much as he tried to fight it, his mind kept going places that he really didn't want it to go.

But he couldn't help it.

In his experience of dealing with doctor's, the word complications was something you didn't want to hear. At all. It always seemed to lead to worse news later. Like they tried their best but they couldn't save the patient. If that happened then he didn't know what the hell he'd do. Especially since their friendship was so screwed up right now, it would definitely make things worse.

Fuck, he really wished he had a cigarette. Didn't matter that he quit years ago. Whenever he was really stressed out, it was always the first thing that crossed his mind. He managed to avoid giving into the temptation so far. But dealing with this situation and all the overwhelming emotions that it churned up inside of him, he was in desperate need of something to take the edge off so he could cope with waiting for more news.

There had to be someone on staff that smoked. A doctor, a nurse, a fucking janitor. All he needed to do was get up off his ass and go find them. Hopefully it would be a female. It would be more interesting and take his mind off his problems for a minute. He'd turn up the charm and flirt a little, get the smoke and most likely a phone number out of it, if not more.

That would definitely calm him down.

Too bad that he wasn't going to go through with it.

It was all his damn conscience's fault. He couldn't just leave Seth there all alone, injured and anxious, wondering if Roman was going to make it. Sami, Kevin and Cesaro had left a while ago, not long after they returned from their drink and bathroom run. They were completely exhausted and worn out from everything. It was understandable and he couldn't find it in himself to be angry about their departure.

But he wasn't going anywhere, no matter how strained things were between the former members of the Shield. Which meant that he was staying at the hospital, in that damn waiting room, until they knew how the big dog was. Until someone told them that everything was going to be alright. That the Samoan was well on the road to recovery and past the worst of it.

If the news wasn't good then he wanted to be there too. There was no way in hell he could bear hearing that the worst had happened over the phone when he was back at the hotel or in the gym. At least if he was at the hospital when he got the news and inevitably lost it then he could get whatever he ended up breaking, be it a hand or foot, it would save time. Not that he really believed that Seth would sit idly by and let him destroy everything around them. He'd probably try to force him to calm down and do whatever he could to keep him from getting himself arrested…

"Stop it." Seth's tired tone broke him from his thoughts. "You're thinking way too loud and I don't like what those thoughts are."

Dean blinked in confusion. What the hell? He stared at the man in the wheelchair and an eyebrow lifted in disbelief. "You don't know what I'm thinking."

"Of course I do. I still know you even if you don't think I do." The former champion shifted slightly, wincing in pain as he did. Brown eyes locked on his, intense and all too certain in their belief. "I may have to stay in this wheelchair while we're here but I will still manage to make sure that no one gives you a cigarette and from now on, there'll no more sitting there thinking about the worst outcome of this situation. Focus on the positive and believe that we're due for something good to happen."

He crossed his arms over his chest and huffed, drumming his fingers against his bicep. It didn't prove anything. All it was a lucky guess, nothing more. Anyone could've figured out what he was thinking. In circumstances like these, it was a common to allow the notion of the worst thing that could happen to tease at your thoughts.

Seth was about to say something else but a voice stopped him before he could.

"Excuse me but are either one of you blood type B-positive?" The nurse who informed them about the complications was back, eyes flitting anxiously between them. "Our supply of it is currently short and we could use a donation."

"No, I'm A-positive." The younger man looked disappointed to admit that, his body slouching in the wheelchair as if he's been deflated. "Plus they gave me pain killers so I think that would disqualify me even if I was a match."

Dean frowned, shrugging his shoulders tiredly. "I guess that leaves me out too cause I'm O-negative."

"You're O-negative?" The nurse seemed encouraged by that. "Are you sure?"

Was he sure? Yeah, you could say that. With his past experiences in death matches, it was kind of important for him to know his blood type. Just in case things went a little too far or he was bleeding out a little too quick and it resulted in a trip to the hospital. "I'm a hundred percent sure."

"Your blood type is compatible."

"How?" His eyebrows drew together in confusion. He was no rocket scientist but he was smart enough to know that B and O weren't the same. "You said he's B-positive…"

"O-negative is the universal blood donor. It has no designated antibodies in it so it's compatible with every blood type." She explained, crossing the room and looking at up at him questioningly, "Would you be willing to make a donation?"

He swallowed nervously, "Uh, yeah, sure."

"All right, come with me and I'll get you set up." The nurse turned and headed out of the waiting room.

But instead of following, he was frozen in place, just staring after her.

"Dean," Seth's voice caught his attention and he turned to stare at the younger man. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"No, I'm good." His mumbled refusal was automatic and so wasn't the fact that his hand played over his chest and his fingers started drumming in agitation against the flesh. "I'm just gonna-you know-go."

There was a knowing look in the younger man's eyes and a slightly smug twist to his lips, like he was trying to hold back a smirk but couldn't completely manage to do it. "You sure you want to go it alone? I know you're not a big fan of needles and I don't mind sitting in there and distracting you while they do it."

He took a deep breath. Damn the sellout and his impressive recall abilities. It shouldn't be a surprise though. Of course the bastard would remember something that could potentially be used against him. There was no one he could blame but himself because he never should have let someone get close enough to him to find those things out.

There was that voice in his head, telling him that had been a spectacularly stupid move. That he knew better than that. Had for a long time. Learned that lesson the hard way back when he was a child. Gloating about the fact that this would only come back to bite him in the ass when he least expected it.

Seth wheeled slowly toward him and reached out with his good arm, hand closing around his forearm. The expression on his face troubled, "Don't listen to whatever those voices are saying. I'm not going to hurt you or use this against you. I just want to go with you to support what you're doing for our injured big brother."

Dean took a deep breath and nodded, "Fine, you can come with me but I'm only doing it cause I don't wanna leave you out here by yourself. This is New York after all. Someone might see you all banged up, doing your best mummy impersonation and decide that you're an easy target. Don't matter that it's a hospital."

"Excuse me," The nurse poked her head back into the waiting room. "Are you coming or have you decided not to donate blood?"

"I'm coming," He rolled his eyes and grabbed the handles of Seth's wheelchair. "Just had to collect King Tut."


	57. Highstakes 4

_August 21, 2016 5:43 AM_

Dean felt eyes on him and slowly lifted his head, setting the ice pack that he'd been holding to it on the chair next to him. Sure enough his companion in the waiting game had a sickeningly worried gaze trained on him. This was just perfect. Now he was the one under observation. As if this night didn't suck enough already.

He tried to ignore if for a few more minutes, choosing to look around the otherwise empty waiting room as a distraction but the intense stare finally broke through his defenses and a growl escaped his lips on his question. "What're you staring at?"

"You alright?" Seth's unwavering gaze never faltered. "How's your head?"

Blue eyes rolled in aggravation and he huffed loudly, "I'm fine."

"You passed out after giving blood." The wounded man countered, raising an eyebrow in disbelief of that nonchalance. "That doesn't exactly scream fine to me."

"No big deal." He quickly brushed off the unwanted concern. "I just stood up too quick…"

"Then your eyes rolled back in your head and your body hit the damn floor like a ton of bricks. Took the nurse about two minutes to wake you up. But of course you don't remember that last part since you were unconscious." Brown eyes narrowed knowingly at him, intense and scrutinizing. "Have you been taking care of yourself?"

The last thing he wanted to hear right then was a damn lecture. He was fine. Never better. Besides, the other man had no right to dole out any advice to him. Especially when he was sitting there in a wheelchair, looking like an extra from the Mummy. "Yeah."

"Really?" The darker haired man pressed. "So if I call Jimmy and Jey, they'll back you up on that? Won't have anything to say that worries me, right? Confirm what you said about being fine?"

Damn it. He really didn't want to be dealing with this right now. But that call would not go in his favor. "No use calling them since I haven't been riding with them."

"Why not?"

"Just didn't feel like it." His fingers drummed on the plastic chair. "Their car's always crowded and you know how I feel about having to cram myself into the backseat."

A frown twisted the architect's lips and his eyes narrowed further. "If you haven't been riding with them, who are you traveling with?"

"Myself."

"Oh for fucks sake…" The high flyer fisted his good hand in his hair. "You're joking right? Just getting your kicks from riling me up like you used to because it gives you some kind of sick enjoyment."

He shrugged at the annoyed look he received, slouching down in the uncomfortable hospital chair further but held the piercing gaze. "Nope, not fucking with you this time."

"Why the hell are you driving from state to state every damn night by yourself?" The vein was literally standing out on the injured man's forehead then. "Do you realize how dangerous that is? How quickly you can wear yourself out if you're not splitting traveling duties with someone else?"

"I'm fine." He repeated, gritting the word out between clenched teeth.

"You think I believe that? Please. Maybe you can convince someone who doesn't know you as well as I do but I'm not buying what you're selling brother."

Dean's hand curled into a fist. "Good cause I ain't tryin' sell you a damn thing. I'm telling you the truth."

"Maybe you've convinced yourself that's true but it's not." Seth rolled his eyes. "I can take one look at you and tell that you're not sleeping much at all, probably even less than the limited amount you usually do. You're at least ten pounds lighter than you were and have lost a lot of muscle definition. That tells me that you're not eating how you should be because you don't have the time and that you're too exhausted to really work out."

"Wrong, I was sleeping like a baby when I got the call tonight." He shot back with a forced smirk, not about to admit that it was the first time in weeks that he'd had a semi-decent sleep or that he was down a few pounds due to his hectic schedule. "As for the weight, well, I think you're just seeing what you wanna see since you got all jacked during your recovery from surgery."

The younger man slowly wheeled the chair closer. "Listen, I know all about the craziness of the champion's schedule and how it can overwhelm you without you realizing it. I've been there. My first few months, I dropped weight and could barely keep my head up because I was so tired."

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face roughly, "I appreciate the concern but it's not needed. I'm good."

Seth huffed this time and was about to respond.

"Are you here for Roman Reigns?" A doctor in blood stained scrubs looked down at them, face stoic. He was probably a few years older than them. But from his rigid stance, emotionless expression and dead eyes, it was obvious that he had been through situations like these numerous times and had learned to keep himself detached.

Dean felt his heart lurch as his eyes locked on the crimson smears on the formerly light blue material. Damn. He hadn't seen that much blood on clothing since his days in CZW's tournament of death. His mouth opened but no sound came out. The words seemed to freeze in his throat.

Seth sucked in a shaking breath, seeing his struggle and deciding to be the one to acknowledge that fact. "Yeah, we are."

"As you know, we encountered some complications during surgery." The Doctor had a perfectly unreadable monotone of a voice. "While we were trying to stem the internal bleeding, Roman's spleen ruptured."

"Jesus." Seth's hand clamped down on his leg, fingers painfully digging into the muscle.

Dean swallowed thickly, not bothering to pry the younger man's death grip off his thigh, and gripped the arm of the architect's wheelchair. "His spleen ruptured? How did that happen?"

"Your friend suffered severe abdominal trauma in the crash. His left side took the brunt of the blow, which caused the initial internal bleeding and the damage to the organ to occur. It's not uncommon that given the force of that impact it would lead to a rupture occurring post impact."

"What can you do?" Seth's hand left his thigh and found his hand, squeezing it as if he needed to reassure himself that he wasn't alone.

"We tried to repair the rupture but we encountered some issues." The Doctor explained in that same flat, unaffected tone. "He was losing blood at an alarming rate between the two bleeds."

Dean was going to be sick. He could feel it. The bile was rapidly rising in his throat, burning everything in it's wake. But he was aware that he needed to resist the urge, to try to stay calm until they knew where this was going. His hand tightened in Seth's, trying to give the younger man comfort in this horrible situation.

"That's why we needed the blood donation."

Seth made a choking sound, fingers painfully biting into his hand as his eyes filled with water. He leaned his forehead against his bicep and whimpered, the tears obviously refusing to be held back any longer as they soaked into the arm of his t-shirt.

"But after that you were able to get it to stop, right?" Dean never heard his voice sound so timid and unsure to his own ears before.

"No." The Doctor told them bluntly. "We managed to get the internal bleeding under control but we were unable to repair the rupture."


	58. Highstakes 5

_August 21, 2016 6:03 AM_

Dean felt a cold, clammy sweat break out over his skin at the Doctor's words. They couldn't repair the rupture. What the hell did that mean? There better be more that they could do. This better not be the start of the conversation that he had been dreading since he walked through those hospital doors.

He needed to do something. Fast. Before the Doctor opened his mouth. Because he didn't want to hear the words he had a bad feeling the man was about to say. There was no way in hell that he'd be able to handle it.

So he turned his focus on what he was capable of. The only thing he could do for the injured man. Because it was the only sliver of hope he had. "Do you need me to donate more blood? Just say the word and I will."

"You already gave the allotted amount." The Doctor gave him a hard look. "Trust me when I tell you that it helped. Like I said, we got the internal bleed under control. We just couldn't repair the rupture to the spleen."

His stomach dropped, hearing those words again. A dull throb started at his temples and his chest tightened painfully. Nothing was going to stop the man from saying what he was going to say. There was nothing he could do to delay or avoid hearing what the Doctor was going to tell them. The hold he had on Seth's shoulder increased as he braced himself.

"I'm sorry but…"

"Fuck." He whispered before the other man could finish, the room feeling like it spinning as he dropped his head to his chest, breathing out heavily stuttered breaths. It was all for nothing. All that was left was for those damn words to leave the man's mouth and shatter everything once and for all. "Oh god no."

"No! Not Roman!" Seth sobbed loudly, his one armed grasp on Dean tightening to painful levels, crushing his midsection and making it even harder to breathe. "He can't be dead, he just can't be!"

"Dead?" The Doctor looked between the emotional men, perplexed. "Your friend is still alive."

Both of their heads shot up at that and they spoke at the same time.

"Wait…what?" The high flyer's voice was nasally from crying but the confusion shone through.

"But you said you were sorry!" His rasp was accusatory as was the look in his eyes. "That usually means that the person's dead!"

"I am sorry." The man in the bloodied scrubs said patiently, "Sorry that we weren't able to simply repair the rupture because that would have been a lot easier for Mr. Reigns."

Dean cracked his neck, patience wearing thin. "What the hell does that mean?"

"We had to do an emergency partial splenectomy to remove the ruptured area or we would have lost the patient." The Doctor stated tiredly. "It went well but due to the fact that we had to proceed with an open surgery due to the severity of the issue as opposed to the less invasive laparoscopic, he'll need to stay here for the at least the next week."

"What's the recovery time required for that?" Seth inquired pensively, teeth chewing on his lower lip.

"The recovery time is usually anywhere from four to six weeks." There was a pointed reference in the word usually. "However, I would strongly caution that in this case, we may be talking more a matter of months than weeks."

The architect was still clutching onto Dean, fingers of his good arm now cutting into his bicep hard enough to break the skin. "He's going to be alright though?"

"I can't answer that right now." The man informed them in that same practiced, authoritative tone of voice. "Due to the internal bleeding and spleen rupture, we haven't ascertained the nature of any other injuries that he suffered in the crash yet. Now that we have him stabilized, he'll need to be further examined."

Dean struggled to process that, a heavy, almost smothering feeling settling over him. Roman wasn't dead. They had managed to save him. That should be great news. Should make him jump for fucking joy.

But yet, he couldn't because he knew better. Life had taught him that nothing good ever really happened. More bad news was probably still about to come. Because they hadn't actually examined him due to the emergency surgery. So this was nothing more than a temporary reprieve and things were far from being over.

The Samoan could still die or be paralyzed.

That thought struck him hard and he really needed to sit down. Right now, before he ended up in a heap on the floor again. His legs were shaking too much to be able to support his weight anymore. Detaching himself from Seth's painfully clawed grasp, he gracelessly fell down into the chair. This was just too much for him, way too much.

His throat felt like someone had squeezed tight it in a vice, cutting off much needed air. Lungs burned with the effort it was taking to try to force out a breath. Dark spots danced before his eyes. A cold, clammy sheen of sweat clung to his flushed, burning skin. He knew he was about to pass out again but he didn't know how to stop it from happening.

"Dean?" Seth's voice was trembling. "You don't look good. Why don't you look good? What the hell is happening?"

"Did he eat or drink anything after he gave blood?" The Doctor's words were calm, accessing.

"No."

"Does he suffer from panic or anxiety attacks?"

"I-I-I don't…I never…I don't know." The architect stuttered weakly, good hand flapped helplessly.

"We need to get him breathing regularly again then get juice and sugar into his system as soon as possible."

"What's happening to him?" Seth's cry was full of panic.

"He's having a anxiety attack due to the stress of the situation and his blood sugar is low due to donating blood." The man informed him gruffly, tone no nonsense. "It has to be managed quickly, before his body goes into panic induced shock."

Dean really wanted to reassure the younger man. Tell him that he'd be fine. That it was nothing and the doctor was wrong. But he couldn't. His body slumped forward, his head resting against his knees as he struggled to stay conscious.

"Dean, look at me." The doctor commanded. "I need you to look at me and follow directions ok?"

He forced himself to listen, lifting his woozy head. Everything was wavy and dark, the person in front of him nothing but a dull, blurred outline. Choked, wheezing breaths tumbled over his parted lips as his hand curled into a fist, blunt fingernails pressing into the fleshy meat of his palm. It hurt. Everything just fucking hurt like he'd never experienced before.

"I need you to relax and try to take small, shallow breaths." The voice ordered. "Can you do that for me?"

It sounded easy.

But it wasn't because no matter how much he told himself to calm down, to breathe normally, his body ignored the commands. He fought harder with himself, mentally screaming the orders. Trying desperately to follow the advice. It wasn't working. In fact, it was just making everything worse as his vision went completely dark and everything spun wickedly.

Vaguely, he was aware that he was no longer sitting on the chair. That he was somehow on his back now. Unseeing eyes blinking rapidly as even the murky darkness continued to swirl tauntingly around him. His heart hammered painfully and irregularly in his chest then tightening torturously. Tremors raced through his freezing body as he laid there and hyperventilated dangerously.

There was movement near him suddenly, his ringing ears just picking up the fuzzy sound of it's voice as it spoke to someone else. "I've got a male, late twenties or early thirties in distress in the emergency surgery waiting room. We need oxygen, IV and a gurney in here stat."

"Don't you dare do this to me. I can't handle this right now! You can't leave me here all alone!" Seth's familiar voice implored him, breaking on the command with anguished sobs. "I need you. I need my big brother."


	59. Highstakes 6

_August 21, 2016 6:23 AM_

Seth sat in his wheelchair, in that damn waiting room that he was starting to suspect was really hell, wondering if thirty was too young to have a nervous breakdown or heart attack. Because he really felt like he was on the verge of having either or both. He just wasn't sure which one would happen first. This night probably took over the top spot as the worst night in his life. Roman fighting for his life, still not knowing how badly injured he was after the car accident and Dean working himself up into the mother of all panic attacks that ended up with him on the floor, practically convulsing and being whisked away on a gurney.

Maybe this was karma. Payback for all the nasty, horrible things he'd done since that fateful day that he turned on his brothers, when his ego and need to be at the top of the ladder override his sense of family. He didn't get it though. If this was Karma, shouldn't he be the one who had to undergo emergency surgery and almost die? Be the one shaking uncontrollably on the ground while he was desperately gasping for air?

He deserved that for what he'd done to them. But maybe this was the worst thing karma could think of to inflict on him. It was almost bordering on sadistic. They were broken and once again, it was his fault. Since his injuries were relatively minor and he had to be confined to a wheelchair while he was in the hospital, he had no choice but sit there and watch them suffer.

Seth had been the one who suggested Roman ride with him and he was the one driving the car that crashed. He had been the one who insisted that Cesaro call Dean to tell him about the accident because even though things were bad between them, he needed him at that hospital with him. Without him in the picture things would have been much different. Roman would have been driving with Cesaro or he'd never have gone out in the first place and Dean would have been in his hotel room sleeping.

He hated that they were suffering, long since stopped wishing that fate on them. All he wanted now was for them to be healthy, happy and successful. Even if that meant that he'd lose them once and for all because he knew that he would; be it today, tomorrow or sometime in the future. Because that was what he deserved. For them to realize what a hazard he was in their lives and walk away once and for all.

There was also a strange sense of déjà vu laughing at his back, mocking him mercilessly. They made it three for three again. All of them had ended up patients in the hospital in the same night. Didn't rank as high as all of them holding the WWE championship in the span of five minutes. Not by a long shot. It was probably the worst brotherly bonding activity in the history of their brotherhood.

But at least they were still making history together and they never half assed anything.

They had just single-handedly ruined Summerslam.

He fished his phone out of his pocket with the one arm he had use of, deciding that he needed to make this call. Stephanie and Mick already knew about the accident. They were aware that neither of their top stars would be able to wrestle. But Shane and Daniel had no clue about what happened with Dean. They needed to be informed so they could adjust the card accordingly since they'd be without the WWE Champion.

Searching his contacts, he heaved a sigh then pressed Daniel's name. It rang three times before a groggy hello sounded in his ear. He quickly explained what happened, his voice breaking several times during it. By the end of the conversation, he had lost it completely, sobbing uncontrollably. Daniel tried to comfort him and failed but at least the Smackdown GM took mercy on him and volunteered to be the one to all Shane.

Seth disconnected the call and shoved his phone back into his pocket. He pinched the bridge of his nose tightly and tried to get his emotions back under control. But he couldn't. This was just too much to handle. There were too many emotions assaulting him all at once when he was completely exhausted and couldn't keep himself in check, couldn't even imagine being able to step back and appreciate the few silver linings.

"We've gotten your friend stabilized."

That familiar monotone of the Doctor cut through his breakdown and he looked up, eyes blurry from tears. He blinked, confused and drained, "Which one?"

"Dean." There was almost a smile on the stoic man's face. "He's settled in a room if you'd like to go see him."

Yeah, he wanted to see him. There was no way in hell that he'd be able to get himself under control until he saw for himself that he was alright. But he needed to know if there was an update about Roman first. Because he knew without a shadow of doubt that Dean would pester him for one. "How about Roman?"

"He's still stable which is the best we can expect right now."

"That's it?" His anger was rising. "That's all you have? No information on what other injuries he has? A plan of action for his recovery."

"Due to the nature of Mr. Reign's surgery, he won't be evaluated until later in the day or possibly tomorrow." Again that voice was flat and unaffected. "He needs to rest after what his body went through."

It made sense.

Didn't mean that he liked it.

He decided that losing it on the doctor would be counterproductive though. Couldn't be there for his brothers if he got kicked out of the hospital or hauled off to jail. Not to mention that he'd feel bad about borrowing Dean's role as the unhinged one even if it was only a temporary situation brought on by stress. Taking a deep a deep breath, he nodded slowly. "Can I go see him now?"

"Which one?" The doctor tossed his earlier words back at him.

Oh that was really funny. Maybe when both his brothers were healthy again and free from this place, he'd decide that this asshole deserved for someone to lose it on him after all. It was the least that he could do. "Dean."

"He's down the hall in room three." The doctor looked him over. "Would you like an orderly to assist you?"

"No thanks." Seth muttered and wheeled himself over to the door, using his foot to kick it open so he could get through it.

It was easy to find room three and he was glad that the door was already open because it made it much easier for him to maneuver inside. But once he was in there, he froze. He wasn't prepared to go in there and find Dean hooked up to an oxygen machine, heart monitor and an IV. Wasn't expecting him to be so pale or unconscious. When the doctor told him that he was stable, he figured that he'd find the dirty blonde awake, pissed off and ready to get the hell out of the room.

Because he needed him to be.

He couldn't do this alone. Didn't have the physical or emotional strength to cope with a situation of this magnitude if he didn't have to focus on being strong for someone else. His eyes stung as they filled with tears again and he grasped the cool, limp hand of the man he once betrayed. "Please, wake up Dean. Please. I can't handle this on my own."

He laid his head down on the mattress, next to their hands, eyes sliding shut. "I know I don't deserve to ask you for anything. I ruined our brotherhood and I know you don't believe it but I regret that and everything else I did. There's no way I can ever make up for it and you'll probably never trust me again but I need you here with me even if you hate me."

"I'm thankful that Rome and I mended fences. That we're slowly getting back to being the brothers we once were. But it's not the same without our crazy middle brother. I'm not the only one who feels that way. Rome does too."

God he was so tired. So emotionally and physically drained. But he kept talking, needing to get this off his chest before he imploded. "He won't talk about it. Not after what happened during our ill-fated attempt at forcing you to forgive us. But I can tell. Every time he's watching one of your matches or promo's, there's this sad look on his face."

"I know that he's sorry he pushed you away and that he came up with the idea of ambushing you at your place to try to work things out. But he was desperate to fix things. Now that you've been drafted to Smackdown, he doesn't think he'll ever get the chance to repair your friendship."

"I'm hoping that he's wrong." A yawn escaped him, "If he survives this, I really hope that the two of you can work things out. That you'll at least consider letting him back into your life."

Seth could feel himself drifting, the fragile hold on consciousness that he had maintained slipping from his grasp. "You're really blood brothers after tonight. Don't be a stubborn bastard and fight to keep him at arms length just because those nasty, petty, spiteful voices from your past tell you that you should. They're wrong. You deserve to have people care about you, to have friends and be happy..."

Another yawn slipped over his lips and he couldn't fight the urge to sleep anymore. As he was slipping into dreamland, he could swear he felt Dean's hand leave his. Swore that it was slowly and tentatively stroking over his hair. Like it had done only once before, the night of their first match at TLC when he'd crashed through the table and been knocked loopy. But he didn't open his eyes to see if it was real or imagine because odds were that it was probably nothing more than wishful thinking.


	60. Highstakes 7

**Author's Note: Aw thanks for all the kind words but that wasn't the end of this arc. I mean, we still don't know poor Roman's status!**

* * *

 _August 21, 9:30 AM_

Seth's eyes flew open and a pained groan tumbled out of his mouth. Falling asleep in that damn wheelchair hadn't done him any favors. His fractured shoulder, broken ribs and stiff back screaming in agony. He tried to lift his head but something was on top of it, not holding it down but resting there. It took some effort but he managed to maneuver free, head rising.

Brown eyes locked on the hand that had rested on his head and he felt that same sense of overwhelming guilt bear down on him once more. It hadn't been a dream or wishful thinking. Dean really had been trying to offer him comfort when he needed it. Had pushed aside whatever animosity he had felt for him and attempted to give him the only bit of solace he was capable of in his current condition. The gesture might surprise most people but not him, he knew the man behind the eccentric character.

The dirty blonde would deny it until his dying day but he wasn't some cold, unfeeling asshole like he tried to pretend that he was. Beneath those walls he built to keep people at a distance, because he'd been hurt too many times already, Dean was a good guy with a big heart. Roman and him had teased the eccentric member of the trio about the fact that he was really a big softy and that he wore said heart on his sleeve. He cursed at them, denied it but it was true. When he cared about someone, he cared about them with every fiber of his being.

He would do anything he could for them, go above and beyond to try to help them.

Even if that person didn't deserve it.

His eyes burned as tears filled them. How the hell could he have thrown everything away to further his career? Gone along with the things that the authority wanted him to do despite knowing that he could seriously injure the dirty blonde? Pay someone like Bray Wyatt to step in and distract Dean knowing the toll that would take on the other man? Betray him again by feeding the eater of worlds information that Dean had been reluctant to share in the first place, that he never wanted to become public knowledge.

Tears slid down his face as he finally realized what a self-serving bastard he had been to take their rivalry to a personal level with Dean. To stoop to that level and throw away every shred of decency and family he had in the name of career advancement. But he hadn't learned from his mistake. Because he turned around and tried to do the same thing to Roman the second they were rivals. Going right back to the personal jabs, sneak attacks and petty, spiteful behavior.

He didn't deserve forgiveness from either one.

All they owed him was an ass kicking.

"Could you fucking stop?"

The deep, unexpected rasp startled him and he blinked, gaze locking on the awake and alert man who had taken off his oxygen mask and was glaring at him. "I wasn't doing anything."

"Right," Blue eyes rolled and he let out a disbelieving huff. "And I'm fucking thrilled to be here."

It was classic Ambrose and the relief that swept through him was intense. Knocked every other emotion that was threatening to drown him to the side. He couldn't stop himself from laughing at that quip. His chuckles turned almost hysterical as they continued and his eyes once again filled with burning water as he launched himself out of the wheelchair and onto the prone man. A wince of pain left his mouth as the impact made his injuries ache even more.

But he didn't care about any of that at the moment, all that mattered was that Dean was awake and he wasn't alone in this hell anymore. That would keep the demons at bay for a while. What little energy he had remaining could be spent trying to keep Dean from doing something stupid or dangerous to himself. Make sure that they stayed focused on Roman and what he needed.

Dean's eyes narrowed, trying but failing to squirm away from the one armed bear hug he was trapped in. "Great, you finally lost your damn mind. Who knew that this was all it'd take?"

More laughter, "I'm just so happy you're doing better!"

"Uh-huh."

"I am." He drew back, eyes looked on the skeptical ones. "You scared the hell out of me."

Instead of responding to that, his features hardened and he cleared his throat. "Any word on how Ro's doing?"

The change of subject was like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on him. A reminder that things were not alright between them despite the few comforting moments they shared due to their concern over Roman. But he swallowed his disappointment as he settled back into his wheelchair. "He's still stable which is apparently the best we can hope for right now. The doctor said that they'll examine him for further injuries either later today or tomorrow."

"You seen him yet?"

"No, they haven't told me that I could."

"So, basically, we still don't know shit." It was blunt but accurate. "That miserable prick of a doctor needs someone to give him a piece of their mind. Acting like a superior asshole. Oh, I'll see how much of an asshole he can be with my hands wrapped around his throat."

"They said that he needs to rest after what he went through." Seth rushed to diffuse the situation before he had one brother in the hospital and one in jail. "I mean, it does make sense. The big dog did just have major surgery."

"Yeah, he needs rest but they should be using that time to run tests and shit. Get on with knowing exactly what they're dealing with and since they're not, there's no excuse for them not to let us see him. Ain't like we're going to throw a party in his room." His finger clicked on the call button for the nurse as he settled back against the pillows.

A pretty young nurse came into the room, which caused Dean's eyes to light up, checked the papers on the monitor and smiled at the results. "Someone's feeling better I see."

Dean's entire demeanor changed in the blink of an eye. Gone was all the previous anger, the resent toward the medical staff. He flashed his patented dimple baring grin, blue eyes twinkling as they roamed appreciatively over the woman. "Much better darlin' thanks to all your hard work. I mean, how could a guy not feel better when he's got a beautiful woman taking care of him?"

Seth pressed his lips together to keep from chuckling. Typical Dean. The man couldn't go anyplace without flirting, it was like breathing to him. Didn't matter if it was a bar, an airport or a hospital; no place was off limits to him. But he really ramped it up when he wanted something and thought he could charm his way into getting it.

Which was what he was doing now.

He could tell by the way it was being laid on so thickly. Reminded him of the time that Dean's smooth talk got them out of a ticket because he turned the female cop into a simpering, hair twirling, giddy mess. Or how he used to charm the maids into letting him borrow their key card when Roman would lock his drunk ass out of the hotel room because he refused to come back with them. It never ceased to amaze him how easily his flirtation yielded him the result he desired.

"Did you need something?" The nurse's cheeks were stained pink from his compliment.

"Oh yeah," That infamous grin widened, those dimples prominently displayed now. "But for right now, I'll settle for my release papers. The rest we can talk about later."

"I'm not authorized to do that."

That admission didn't dampen the champion's spirits. "But I'm sure if you put in a good word with the doc, told him that I'm fit to be released, it could happen sooner than later, right?"

"He'll probably want to examine you first." The nurse hedged. "Make sure that you've really recovered from what happened."

Dean licked his lips, "Trust me darlin', I'm rarin' to go."

"I'll go speak to the doctor and see what I can do." She flounced out of room, looking flushed and excited.

The architect shook his head, chuckling at the display he just witnessed. "You're such a whore."

"And you're a sellout and traitor." All traces of his previous levity had vanished and Dean was back to being angry at the situation. "Now that we've stated the obvious, it's time to put together a plan of attack. The goal is to get me out of here as soon as we can so I can get some answers out of Doctor failed bedside manner and we can see Roman."

"A plan?"

Blue eyes rolled. "You know, those things that you always brag about having? We need one of those gems now. Just in case all my work on nurse pretty doesn't get me more than her phone number."

Seth sighed, "I don't have one."

"Why the hell not?" There was genuine surprise in the dirty blonde's tone. "You've had hours to be thinking bout this shit while I was unconscious. Normally you'd have a plan and a couple of back-up ones by now."

"Sorry man," He shrugged helplessly. "I was a little too busy going out of my mind with worry about Roman and you to concoct any strategy."

Dean groaned, "Damn it, the one time I need you to be your diabolical self and you don't deliver. Guess it's up to me. Pass me my clothes."

Seth stared at him in disbelief. Dean was going to plan something? He never planned anything. Well that wasn't entirely true. He'd happily plan various ways to make his opponents lives a living hell but not anything beyond that.

Yet he rolled over to the chair and picked up the clothes that were folded on top of it. Hesitantly, he handed then over, expression curious. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that I ain't gonna wait for Doctor Asshat to release me." An all too familiar twinkle appeared in those eyes and his lips curved in a smirk. "I'm just gonna release myself."


	61. Highstakes 8

**Author's Note: So between work being extremely busy and having the damn flu, this chapter definitely did not turn out how I wanted it to. So it's basically just a filler chapter. Sorry.**

* * *

 _August 21, 2016_

Sometimes Seth really wondered what exactly went on in Dean's mind, like how he came to make the decisions he did and justified them. Was it really as chaotic and twisted as the man said it was? Could it be more serene and calm than he let on? Maybe it was split, one side rife with craziness and one side all peaceful. Because the two different plans the dirty blonde laid out, in the bathroom they commandeered as their base of operations, screamed that the latter option was probably the correct one.

The first option, aka the crazy one, was a convoluted plot. It involved working their way through the air conditioning ducts in the ceiling until they made it to where Roman was. At that point they'd drop from the ceiling and subdue any medical personnel who got in their way. Grab whatever they could use as a weapon to hold the bastards at bay. Then wheel Roman out of this hell, still in his bed and whisk him away to a more competent place.

He could tell that it was the one Dean really wanted to go with. Those blue eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas morning with every word spoken. A twinkle of mischief and mayhem danced across those crystalline orbs. The taller man was practically vibrating with excitement, subconsciously shifting back and forth where he stood. A devil may care smirk clung to his lips after he finished explaining it in an animated tone.

The second option, the sane one, was really straightforward. It had them simply walking into his room and not giving the damn who opposed it. Just stand their ground and force their way to where they wanted to be. Refuse to be moved. Force the medical staff to give them answers and not back down.

The last option was the one he voted for. Made it clear that he wouldn't be swayed toward the other choice either. Because (A) With his injuries, he couldn't shimmy his aching, only have use of one armed body through anything right now. Plus (B) They were less likely to get shot or arrested going with the straightforward plan. And finally (C) This wasn't the movies and if they tried that, they would most likely die by being sucked into giant fan blades or injure themselves further when the ducts couldn't support their weight and sent them crashing through the ceiling.

"Spoilsport." Dean rolled his eyes, obviously upset that he hadn't jumped at the opportunity to make this as a dramatic as possible.

Seth sighed heavily. H really needed to reach out to someone on the Smackdown side of the roster and coerce them into covertly policing Dean's activities. This whole situation coupled with Dean's admission that he'd been riding alone proved to him that he was right to worry about what could happen when there was no one around to try to curb the older man's activities. Yes, Dean was a grown man but his impulse control was not good enough to resist the crazy notions that popped into his head. Someone needed to be there to reign him in, tell him exactly why it was a bad idea and refuse to be ignored.

Shaking those thoughts off, he met the disappointed gaze that was locked on him. He stubbornly raised his chin to prove that he would not be swayed to the dark side. "So how do we find out what room he's in?"

"Uh," A hand splayed over his collarbone, fingers tapping against it in agitation.

"Because he would have only been in ICU for a while then they'd move him to recovery or a room until they were ready to examine him further."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." The word was a tired drawl. "They don't keep stable people in the ICU."

"Damn." Dean reached into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulled out his battered phone, an impish grin twisting his lips. "Think if we called, they'd be nice enough to tell us?"

Seth pinched the bridge of his nose with his good hand, breathing slowly in and out. He needed to calm down and focus. Find his patience. Because he knew from experience that he was going to need a lot of it. "No, I don't think they'd do that because it's a violation of privacy and could put them at risk of a lawsuit if, say, whoever was on the other end of the line was a crazy fan!"

"Huh." Those fingers started tapping quicker. "Guess we could do this the easy way and ask the person at the desk. Kills the element of surprise that we'd get if we just walked up on the room though."

"We really can't do that either since you know, you weren't actually released and you're still supposed to be in your hospital room."

"I just won't tell them my real name."

He blinked, wondering if he imagined the other man saying that. It was only thing that made sense. Hospitals were tight with security these days but it was even tighter when the person was famous. "They'll probably ask for ID."

That damn mischievous smirk curled his lips. "No problem, I have it covered."

"I don't want to know." Seth held his hands up quickly. He'd learned a long time ago not to ask questions that you really don't want the answers to. Even if there was a nagging little voice in the back of his mind that prodded him to ask regardless. "Let's go."

"You don't actually need the wheelchair right?" An arched eyebrow accompanied the question.

"Well, I was discharged but they said due to liability reasons that I had to stay in it until I left the hospital." He explained cautiously. "Why?"

"We can move quicker without it." A shrug followed that. "Plus, they're probably looking for us since they know you helped me escape. Might be easier flying under their radar if we're not literally rolling up to the desk."

That actually made sense. He stood up slowly. His back, shoulder and neck all screamed in agony at the movement. But he ignored it and made it to his feet with a pained grimace, trying to stretch out his cramped body. A few minutes of that and his muscles eased up enough to make walking a possibility. "Ok, I'm ready but what do we do with that?"

"I got it." Dean opened the handicap stall and kicked the wheelchair inside, closing the door behind it. "Problem solved."

Seth pushed aside his urge to lecture the current WWE champion on how someone else could probably use that wheelchair and focused on their goal. "Are you ready?"

"Hang on, let me grab the right ID first." He dug into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, hastily sorting through collection of six cards that all suspiciously looked like driver's licenses from different states. Finally, he took one out of the pile and slipped it in front of his actual license and flashed a triumphant grin. "There all set."

"I'm going to pretend that I didn't just see that for right now but rest assured that when Roman is better, I'm going to tell him about your collection of fake ID's." He assured him as they left the bathroom and made their way to the lobby. "Then he'll give you another lecture."

That infuriating smirk grew, "He already knows about them and had me get him one."

"Why?"

"Because you never know when you'll find yourself in a situation where you don't want your real name associated with it." With that, Dean stepped up to the front desk and flashed the lady working there his best smile. "Hello darlin', we're here to visit a patient that was admitted last night."

" What's the patient's name?"

"Roman Reigns."

She typed it into her computer and frowned. "Can I see some identification from both of you?"

Dean handed over his and raised an eyebrow as he slid his phony license to her. "It's good to see that the hospital is taking my cousin's safety seriously. Wouldn't want a fan getting in to see him. One less thing for Aunt Patty to worry about."

Seth was really trying not to show how thrown he was by this little plot twist. Cousin, really? He resisted the urge to stare at the other man in wide-eyed, open mouthed disbelief. Dean didn't look a damn thing like someone who could related to Roman. All he could think was this was never going to work, that Dean had overplayed his hand. But with a hand that shook, he passed over his own license and hoped for the best.

The lady just looked up at them and smiled, handing back the Id's. "There is no reason for you or your family to worry about your cousin's safety here. He's in good hands with us Mr. Moxley."

"I'll let my aunt know that." That smile turned up to dazzling. "Now what room is he in?"

"He just finished being examined so they'll be brining him back to his room in the next few minutes." She informed them. "Room 317."

"Thank you darlin'." The dirty blonde gave her a wink and headed over toward the elevator's.

He followed behind his former team mate, slightly relieved but also shocked. It didn't make sense. How the hell could the lady have believed that?

Once the elevator door closed, Dean gave him a hard nudge in his already injured ribs. "I need you to remind me to never commit a crime when you're with me. Your poker face sucks. If that chick had spared you a glance, you would have fucked this whole thing up."

"You could have warned me! I wasn't expecting you to pass yourself off as a family member."

Blue eyes rolled, "Why not? It worked right?"

"Yeah but I just don't know how it worked." He shook his head. "You could never pass as Samoan…"

"Never said I could." A smug smirk twisted his lips as the elevator doors opened and they stepped out into the third floor hallway. "Like I wouldn't have been prepared for questions? Please. I'm his cousin on his mother's side. Even if they pressed and called, Patty would have backed me up. She fucking loves me."

They found room 317 and pushed the door open. No one was inside. Wandering further into the room, Dean dropped down into the chair by the bed and Seth leaned tiredly against the wall, waiting for Roman's return.


	62. Highstakes 9

_August 21, 2016 10:30 am_

Dean huffed a sigh, fingers drumming against his arm. The lady at the desk had said that Roman would be back in his room in a few minutes but it was a half an hour later and there was still no sign of him. His mind kept taunting him, telling him that couldn't mean anything good. The worst part was that he was really starting to believe it. There was no other explanation that made any sense because if the big dog had gotten a clean bill of health, other than the injuries they already knew of, they'd be sitting there talking about how insane the last twelve hours had been and how they were going to hear it from Vince for screwing up the biggest pay per view of the summer.

But they weren't and he wondered if that was an omen of things to come.

He was surprised that Seth was so calm and collected right now. There'd been several times over the last half day where he had seen that the architect wasn't always capable of controlling his emotions. It made him feel a little better about falling apart. Proved to him that maybe there was still remnants of the old Seth left behind. Not that he was ready to go back to being brothers or even being friends.

Things were not forgiven and forgotten. Far from it. It was a long shot that they ever would be. There were a lot of things that came easily to him but that wasn't one of them, actually he didn't know if he could do it at all. All his life it had been ingrained in him that if you fooled him once, he always remembered that shit and never let that person get close enough to fool him again. Making sure that the snake never slithered it's way back into his life.

But this situation did show him that maybe, just maybe, he could be actually be civil to the other man when it was needed. That they could spend time in each other's presence without the need to strangle or stab him with his trusty fork entering his mind. At least when it came to the life or death shit. He wasn't convinced that once they were past this, that the urge wouldn't come back. Now he knew that he could resist the impulse when he needed to.

"Guess they weren't as done with Rome as they thought, huh?" Seth's sudden query broke into his thoughts. "Probably gave us the wrong information."

It was obviously intended to sound like an idle musing but the tremor of nervousness belied that. That meant that he was entertaining the same thoughts as Dean and looking for reassurance that their friend's late arrival was nothing more than a miscommunication between the doctor and the front desk. "Yeah, sure, maybe."

"I mean, you know how doctor's are."

"Uh-huh."

"It doesn't always mean that something's wrong." The dark haired man chewed worriedly on his lower lip, a huge tell that he didn't believe a word that was coming out of his mouth. "They just tend to focus on the patient and ignore the people waiting to hear what's going on, right?"

Dean just didn't have it in him at that moment to say what he was really thinking. Not just because he didn't want to say it aloud but also because, he really didn't want to have to him comfort Seth right then. If this shook out like he had a bad feeling it was going to then he needed to save it for then. Because comforting people was something he wasn't good at and having to do it already several times was pushing the limits of what he was capable of enduring for the year. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

"You don't agree." It was a statement, not a question. "You think that they're late because something's wrong."

"Well, you do too or else you wouldn't keep yapping about it." The words left his mouth in a vicious snap that was more instinct than intent. But he couldn't help it. That was the way things had been between them since 2014. Probably wouldn't ever stop being that way either.

"But I don't want to think that." Seth's confession was pained. "I need to hear that I'm wrong. That things are going to be alright so I can make myself believe that it's true."

"I can't tell you that."

"Why?"

He shrugged, not knowing why he lacked the ability to do it. It had just always been that way. The few times he tried to tell someone what they wanted to hear, it had sounded so phony and unbelievable that even a blind and deaf person would have been able to tell that he was lying. So he stopped trying. Figured it was better if he just gave it to them straight or kept his mouth shut.

Seth didn't know when to leave it alone and just kept pushing the issue. He should know by now that whatever came out wasn't going to be sugarcoated. Wouldn't be some feel good positive crap to soothe the soul. They'd known each other too long for him to expect anything but the cold, hard truth. Even if it was something that he didn't want to hear in these kind of moments.

Running an agitated hand trough his messy hair, Dean sighed. Decided that this conversation needed to stop. Now. Before he snapped and did something that broke their currently peaceful co-existence. "They should be back soon. We'll have the answers then."

The hope that that answer would shut the younger man up died when the architect opened his mouth and posed a question that he didn't know the answer to. "What if the answers we get aren't the ones we're hoping for?"

Dean rolled his eyes. They both knew that the odds were that they weren't going to get great news. There was just no way. Even if Roman didn't sustain any additional injuries, and that was a giant if, he was still going to be sidelined for at least a few months from the emergency surgery he had already underwent. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Seth opened his mouth to continue his line of impossible questions but the door opened, freezing the words before they left his mouth. Both of them turned their focus to the unfamiliar older man entering the room. He was tall and wore a white coat over grey scrubs, stone faced with a clipboard as his gaze bouncing between them. Another doctor obviously. But he was alone, Roman nowhere to be seen. Which didn't exactly inspire confidence that whatever this was about was something they wanted to hear.

"Hello I'm Doctor Williams, head of Orthopedic surgery. Mr. Reigns has been assigned to my care." Once again, he looked between them. "You're family members of Mr. Reigns?"

"Yes." Dean answered quickly. "I'm his cousin."

"First, I'd like to assure you and your family that we plan to do everything we can to assist your cousin in his recovery."

"But why was he assigned to another surgeon?" The architect piped up, rim-rod straight in his seat and his entire being focused on this man. His eyes locked on the stranger that held the information they so desperately wanted to know. "Is this because of the partial splenectomy or the internal bleeding?"

"No, it's hospital protocol. Due to the nature of the injury that Mr. Reigns suffered in the car accident, it falls under my per-view." The explanation was concise, impersonal.

Blue eyes narrowed, hating the fact that this doctor had the same, dull, nothing affects me monotone that the previous asshole did. They must teach that shit in med school or something. How to be an aloof ass 101. "Well where is he? Shouldn't he back in the room if you've finished your exam?"

"Additional tests were required and once they're concluded, he'll be moved to a room in the spinal trauma wing where he can receive the specialized care that he needs at this point in time."

"Spinal trauma? Specialized care?" Seth's voice shook with barely suppressed panic. "Oh god."

"What does that mean?" Dean chimed in, subconsciously grabbing onto the younger man's good arm and digging his fingers into the forearm to ground himself, that all too familiar gnawing pit of dread once again ripping open in his chest.

"During initial testing, Mr. Reigns indicated that he could not feel his legs which is why I was called in. We conducted a few more on the spot sensation tests and did not receive the desired outcome." The doctor consulted his chart. "We followed up with a spinal x-ray that showed during the impact of the collision the patient's spine experienced compression from twisting of the neck and back. This has resulted in severe inflammation outside the spinal cord that is pressing on it and causing a loss of sensation and mobility."

"Is he…" The dirty blonde couldn't finish his sentence and looked to Seth to take over but the younger man was stiff, silent and pale beside him.

Doctor Williams knew what he was asking. "Mr. Reigns is currently experiencing paralysis due to that. Right now, we're hopeful that the condition is temporary due to the swelling putting pressure on the spinal cord but we will not have any conclusions until we receive the results of the CT scan that he's currently undergoing."

Seth broke down, loud gasping sobs tumbling freely from him, his good arm wrapped around his injured ribs.

On instinct alone, because his mind had checked out on him, Dean wrapped his arms around the younger man and pulled him into his chest. He was trying to hold it together. Desperately. Be the strong one and try to get more answers from the doctor, find out their plan for getting Roman back on his feet. But he couldn't do it any longer and felt his own eyes release the burning water that had built in them, a broken but silent sob getting stuck in his throat.


	63. Halloween

**Author's Note: So this will be just a fun lil interlude to lighten up all the angst of lately.**

* * *

 _October 30, 2013 10:58 pm_

Dean loved Halloween. It was his favorite of all the holidays, the only one that he didn't think was completely pointless. Had been that way ever since he was a kid. There was the excitement of coming up with a cool costume and getting to be someone else for a little while. It was fun to pull tricks on your friends and see their reactions. And there was nothing better than scoring a big ol' bag of free candy.

But he never liked any of the scary shit tied to the day.

Detested it actually.

He had too vivid of an imagination to deal with that crap and went out of his way to keep that part of it as far away from him as he could. Didn't want to think about how people said that it was the night where the veil between the living and the dead was lifted. Haunted houses were avoided like the plague. Scary stories were tuned out as he let memories of the best wrestling matches in history take over his mind. Horror movies were changed the second they appeared on his television screen to much more appropriate old tame Halloween themed cartoons.

Too bad he had never mentioned that little tidbit to his team mates.

Might have saved him from this situation if he did.

Today had been an afternoon house-show and they were off tomorrow, on the actual holiday, Seth had gone into planning mode. Seemed it was his favorite holiday too and he dove into planning like a kid bobbing for apples. The youngest member of the trio informed them that they had to take advantage of this rare opportunity as he clicked through pages on his laptop until he found whatever the hell he was looking for. Hadn't filled them in on exactly what those plans were though. Said they were a surprise, that he had found some really cool shit for them to do.

Being the good brother's that they were, they didn't push him to tell them.

Just went along with it blindly.

Which was how Dean found himself sitting in the backseat of the car, staring in horror as they drew closer to a huge, old, ivy covered building situated in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by creepy looking woods. He swallowed thickly, just making out the words asylum on the ancient, rusted arched gate that the car pulled through. "What the hell?"

"Isn't it awesome?" Seth's glee was plain to hear. "This is going to be fun!"

"What's going to be fun?" Roman asked, wariness present in his voice. "Cause right now, this doesn't make a lot of sense."

"Every Halloween, a local team of Ghost Hunters allow people to accompany them on their hunt at different locations. Lucky for us, this year they're exploring this place which has a reputation for being one of the most haunted places in the United States." The two toned man actually sounded like this was the greatest thing that ever happened to him. "I checked out the history of this place and damn, a lot of people died here under some really bad and shady circumstances. It's been said that the field behind the building is just one big unmarked graveyard."

Dean felt a chill run down his spine. This was the opposite of cool. He prided himself on being open minded and believed that there were many unknown things among them in life but he had no desire to see a ghost. It was actually on the list of things he hoped that he'd never see. There was no way in hell that he wanted to get out of the car, go explore this place and came face to face with a spirit.

Too bad he didn't want them to know that this whole situation terrified him. He had a reputation to protect, one that he carefully cultivated over the years, of not being afraid of anything. Opening his mouth and voicing his displeasure with this plan would shatter it all to hell. So he tried to hide his anxiety and said nothing. Hoped against hope that Roman would be able to get them out of this.

"I don't know man." Roman spoke up, not sounding overjoyed at this perspective holiday adventure of a lifetime. "Most of the time, these things are nothing more than a crock cooked up for money and publicity. Nothing more than a staged scene for Halloween. Complete with prerecorded, ghostly voices and projectors set up to beam images of a ghost."

"Not this." Seth was practically giddy. "This is a hundred percent legit. They don't charge people to join the hunt. You just have to be brave enough to do it. So there's nothing in it for them to go the lengths of staging anything."

"I'm sure they garner publicity because of this."

There was a sullen sigh, "Yes but anyone who contacts them to investigate because they think they have a haunting does not get charged. So again, no profit for them. Wouldn't make sense for them to blow a bunch of money to set something like that up if it's not going to be made back."

Dean stifled the urge to groan. Unfortunately, that logic made sense. Didn't mean he liked it though. In fact, he was mentally cursing the bastards for not being money-hungry fame whores. Because he could probably subject himself to this a hell of a lot easier if there was a chance it was nothing more than a phony ghost hunt.

"Then I say let's do this." The oldest member of the trio now sounded just as pumped up about this insane idea as the youngest member did. "What do you think Dean-o? Up for hunting spirits on all hallows eve?"

"Uh, yeah, sure." Both of them turned to look at him in surprise. Matching expression of confusion on their faces. He ducked his head slightly, not wanting them to be able to see the truth on his face. "It's…great."

Seth frowned, looking a little down that his plan wasn't getting the reaction that he had hoped for. "You ok man? I thought that since you're into all the paranormal stuff, that this would have you more excited than I am."

"I'm good." But even he didn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. "It'll be fun."

His two companions were still looking at him in disbelief, obviously able to see through his feeble attempt at convincing him that this was something he actually wanted to do.

"We gonna do this or not?" Dean stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest and hoped that this was coming off far more believable than he thought it sounded. "Don't got all night to decide."

"We're doing this!" With that perky, far too enthusiastic cry, Seth quickly exited the car and waved impatiently for them to follow.

Roman gave him a weak grin and followed their team mate's lead, climbing out of the safety of the vehicle to join this asinine ghost hunt.

Dean quickly blessed himself and mentally prayed that they didn't see anything paranormal during their investigation. That this would turn out to be nothing more than a boring, uneventful waste of a night. He slowly got out, taking his time and zipped up his battered leather jacket as he dully followed behind his brothers.


	64. Halloween 2

_October 31, 2013 12:15 AM_

Dean wished he had never gotten out of the car. After wandering around this pitch black hell hole for the last hour, he had enough. Too bad that the paranormal investigator's informed them that this was a four hour experience of a lifetime. Which meant that he was stuck there for another three hours, mentally counting the minutes until he could quickly walk out the door. At least they'd been lucky enough to not encounter anything out of the ordinary.

But he didn't trust that his luck would hold out.

Nothing worked out the way he wanted it to.

He cursed once again as his feet collided with a solid chunk of whatever the hell debris littered the decaying floor. This place was a fucking death trap. None of the windows had glass left in them, it was all over the floors. Chunks of concrete were missing from the walls. The ceiling or rather what was left of it, looked like it was dangerously close to coming down on their heads.

That was only what he could see in the beam of his flashlight since there was no actual lights in the place. He was glad he could only hear the mocking screech of the bats that were hiding someplace in there or the scuttling of rats as they moved leisurely through the empty rooms. Didn't want to see either of those things at all. Might say fuck it and get the hell out of there if he did. Honestly, he was really tempted to do just that anyway, fake sick or something.

"Man, I gave you the perfect opening to get us the hell out of this." Roman murmured from beside.

"You said you wanted to do it!" He hissed back, squinting at the darkened shape of his friend.

"Yeah cause I didn't want to disappoint Seth by letting him know how lame this whole thing is."

He sneered even though he doubted that his friend could see it. "So you figured you'd agree, be the good guy and let me be the disagreeable asshole as usual?"

"Why mess with success?"

"Bastard."

The big dog kept his voice low, "No way in hell are the guys running this professionals. Their equipment are flashlights, old recorders that still use tapes and a digital camera that was among the first that came out."

Dean sighed, "That only means they're broke."

"You really think this thing is legit?"

"I think they think they're legit but are probably nothing more than paranormal fan boys who run this shit from one of their parent's basements." He let out a shaky breath. "I don't think this place is haunted either. Condemned, probably."

"What's with the one group?" Roman wondered. "Don't paranormal investigators usually split off into teams to explore big ass places like this?"

"Alright everyone, this concludes our search of the first floor." The so called lead investigator, a real tool named Garrett informed them. "We'll be moving to the second floor now. Please stay together as we make our way to our next destination."

The dirty blonde rolled his eyes as he followed behind Roman. He didn't exactly love the fact that he was the last person in line but at least he'd be able to tell if anyone tripped and avoid that spot. As the group made their way to the stairs, being careful to avoid the deep pits in the floor, something caught his eye. There was someone who had broken away from the group and ducked into a room that they hadn't explored. He stopped, waiting for the idiots in charge to realize this and corral the wayward member of their ghost hunt but of course they didn't, starting up the stairs and prattling on about the horrors that had occurred in the operating room they were about to explore.

He debated with himself for a minute. It wasn't really any of his business if some idiot wanted to ignore the rules and split off by themselves. That was on them. This place wasn't safe because it was practically falling down around them. There really was no choice but to try to get them back to the group since it appeared that he was the only one who noticed them slip away.

A quiet, defeated huff left his mouth as he headed toward the door the person disappeared through instead of following the group up the stairs. This room seemed darker than the rest and he shone the beam around, noting that this was some kind of hallway and it had no windows. His flashlight dimmed suddenly, doing little to cut through the inky blackness that surrounded him. But he could hear footsteps somewhere in front of him and a low humming. So he moved forward, following the sound through the twisted maze like hallway.

The hairs on his arm prickled as a cold, clammy sweat broke out on his skin. His flashlight cut out which left him in complete darkness. He tried the button but it didn't come back to life. Hitting it didn't bring back the light either. "Shit."

There was a chuckle at his curse and a chill ran down his spine. Tentatively, he moved forward and tried to sound firm. "Hey, you had your fun. We need to get back to the rest of the group now."

Another laugh was the only response he received.

"I'm serious…" He groused as he stepped into the room at the end of the maze. There was no sign of the person he had trailed. "Oh come on, this isn't…"

The scathing reprimand he was about to deliver choked off as the moonlight that came in through the window cast the room in a subtle glow. Tremors raced through his body, eyes wide as he took in the bank of freezers on the wall and the two metal tables that had a drainage system connected to them. There was no doubt where he was. It was the last place he wanted to have the misfortune of seeing.

He was in the god damn morgue.

"Fuck this!" He murmured, peeling himself off the wall so he could get the hell out of there.

When he turned there was something in his way. It wasn't a person though. Because people weren't see through and featureless like whatever the hell this was. When people talked, it didn't sound like dust in the wind. "Help me."

And real, flesh and blood human beings didn't disappear in front of your eyes.


	65. Halloween 3

_October 31, 2013 12:35 am_

Dean stood frozen in his spot, no longer even conscious of the fact that he was standing in the morgue of a decaying, closed asylum. What had just happened had chased his earlier worry about that far from his thoughts. His terrified mind was reeling and his breath's came in fast, sharp bursts that sounded almost like he was hyperventilating to his own ears. Goosebumps covered his skin, the hair on his arms standing at attention. He couldn't tear his petrified gaze away from the spot right in front of him even though there was only deep, thick blackness staring back at him.

His worst fear had just came true.

He'd been face to featureless face with a ghost.

A shaking hand raked through his sweat matted hair as he struggled to deal with that. His brain started working again, promptly supplying a barrage of excuses to dismiss it. It was probably some lame ass trick that the losers running this ghost hunt set up. There was probably a projector and speaker hidden someplace close by. If not then it was nothing more than a hallucination brought on by his fear of being in this place.

All of those made sense.

He really wanted to believe it.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm his racing heart. He needed to get out of there. Not just the morgue but the whole damn asylum. No reason that he couldn't wait for Seth and Roman out in the car. He went through with doing this lame ass investigation, there was no need to see it through until the end.

Mind made up, he took a tottery step toward where he thought the doorway was.

Another step and once again, his body froze in fright.

That damn thing seemed to materialize out of the darkness and block his path again. It hovered there and he had the weirdest feeling that eyes were boring into him even though it had no facial features. A part of it rose, like a hand being extended toward him. "Help me…"

"FUCK!" He somehow managed to jump back, eyes so wide he was pretty sure that they might just fall out of their sockets. His head whipped from side to side in furious denial of what he was witnessing. "No, no, no, no."

"Help." Came the dry toneless voice again before the thing vanished once again.

Frantically, he looked around the room and found the gaping windows. The morgue was on the first floor. There was still some pieces of glass left in the frame, clinging to the rotting wood. But if that damn apparition wasn't going to let him get out the door then he had no problem jumping out the window. A few nicks and cuts sure as hell beat sticking around to see if it showed itself to him again.

* * *

 _4:10 am_

Dean jolted awake, his mind still fuzzy and confused from sleep, when a hand touched his shoulder. He blindly lashed out, sitting up, hand connecting solidly with something hard. A startled yell ripped from his throat, "Get the hell away from me!"

"What the hell man?" Seth winced, rubbing his cheek from where he sat in the passenger's seat. "Why are you so worked up? You're the one who bailed on us."

Before he could answer, he was interrupted by a deep, mocking chuckle.

"Yeah cause he missed out on so much." Roman rolled his eyes. "I mean, I give them points for the tales they told but didn't get any evidence to support. Told you this thing was nothing more than a crock."

"It's not my fault." The two tone man argued. "The website made it seem a lot better than it was."

The Samoan huffed, "Next year, Dean and I get to pick what we do."

"Oh come on! If you two pick then we'll be spending our Halloween at some bar that's doing a spooky karaoke or a lame costume contest." Seth protested. "Neither one of you would be complaining if we had gotten to see something paranormal!"

He'd had enough and shoved his way between the two seats. "Really? Cause I did see something and that why I'm going to complain! Because it's your fault that I got to experience my greatest fear brought to life!"

They both turned to look at him in unison, the rushed twists of their upper bodies perfectly in sync.

But the expression of their faces were polar opposites.

"You actually think that you saw something in that decrepit pit?" Roman asked skeptically, eyebrow raised in doubt.

"You did? Really?" Seth was excited, practically vibrating in his chair.

"Yes! I saw something!" It was an angry, bitter hiss. "When we were in line, I saw someone slip out of group. Figured I'd get them back with everyone. Well it turn's out that it was a god damn ghost that led me to the morgue, showed itself to me and asked for help. Then because that just wasn't creepy enough, it wouldn't let me leave!"

The two toned man's eyes widened in disbelief. "No way! You saw a full bodied apparition and it communicated with you? That's not fair! You should have taken me with you when you followed it!"

"Oh come on," The elder member of the trio reasoned. "There's no way that really happened. Dean, you fell asleep when you cut out on the investigation. It was probably just a dream."

That seemed to dampen the architect's enthusiasm, "I hate to say it but Roman's probably right. I'm sure we're all going to be having some kind of weird dreams after wandering around that place and hearing the things that supposedly went on there."

"You don't believe me?" Dean shook his head. "Fine, whatever, can we just get the hell out of here."

The car rumbled to life and Roman let it idle for a few moments, warming it up due to the chill in the air. Before he backed up, the dirty blonde leaned forward again and halted them from going. "Before we head back to the hotel, we need to find an all night supermarket or drug store."

"Why?"

"Need something to eat?" Seth grabbed his backpack and pulled the zipper down. "I have some protein bars with me."

"Nope, I need to get some peroxide and bandages to take care of these." He thrust his arms into their field of vision and let them take in the various cuts and slices that littered the flesh of his palms and forearms.

Seth whistled at the sight and Roman met his eyes in the rear-view mirror. "Where the hell did you get those? I don't remember you having them earlier."

"Oh I don't know," Blue eyes rolled. "I guess since you guys say it was a nothing more than a dream, they can't be from climbing out the busted window in the asylum morgue to escape the apparition that was holding me hostage after all. Just like the tear in the leg of my jeans can't be from getting caught on the same glass and having to pull them free."


	66. Betrayal

**Author's Note: Just a little something after the events of last night's TLC match.**

* * *

The video on the screen of the phone ended and once again like it had for the last two hours since the show ended, a finger poked at the button that would restart it. Narrowed blue eyes took in every moment, every detail that played out before them. Over and over he watched and committed the scene to memory. Didn't matter how many times the scene played out on the screen, he felt like he was missing something. There had to be something in that clip that would explain or give him some insight into how the hell he hadn't seen this coming…again.

 _ **Betrayal.**_

It was becoming synonymous with his career.

You'd think that he'd have learned his lesson by now. That he'd be able to spot someone just waiting to plunge a knife in his back from a mile away and deftly avoid them. Or that he'd just be smart enough to keep himself firmly entrenched behind the walls that he'd worked so hard to construct around himself since the last big betrayal he endured. But no, not him. Somehow, someway, he managed to keep falling into this sick cycle of trusting someone only for it to end with them screwing him over when it mattered most.

Was he really that stupid?

That blind?

Must be in order for shit like this to keep happening. He knew that most people didn't have friends that took pleasure in sticking a blade in your back whenever the opportunity presented itself. Ok, so James wasn't technically a friend. Not really. Ellsworth had started out as nothing more than a perfectly placed pawn to get under AJ's skin.

It worked beautifully too at first. With every loss he suffered to the lovable loser James Ellsworth, Styles was slowly going out of his mind and lost his focus. He was so concerned with getting even with James that he wasn't concentrating on Dean. That made the champion vulnerable and ripe for the picking. All he had to do was stay the course, keep himself emotionally detached from the situation and not let anything deter him from his goal. Then he'd have his championship back around his waist and everything would be right in his fucked up little world again.

Sounded simple right?

Should have been like taking candy from a baby.

Too bad Dean had made the stupid mistake of allowing second thoughts to creep in on him. He felt bad about using this guy like he had been used so many times in this business and throughout his entire life that he started learning more about the chinless wonder's background. It made him feel worse about what he was doing when he realized that he could relate to the struggles that the other man had overcome to get there. A few years ago, he had been in that same situation. Wrestling on the Indy's for no money, scratching and clawing every step of the way, just hoping that despite the fact that you resigned yourself to it never happening that the WWE would come calling.

That was why he ultimately helped James win a contract with Smack-Down Live. It had not been part of his original plan at all. He figured that it would alleviate the guilt he felt weighing down on his shoulders if he made sure that James still had a job once this saga with Styles had come to a close. Plus, he had to admit to himself that it was fun having someone to goof around with again, someone there for him even when he didn't want them there. It had helped slightly to take away the sting of knowing that Seth and Roman were slowly repairing their bond of brotherhood, that they didn't need him or care about him at all anymore.

That sucked.

It was just another proverbial knife to the back.

Dean should be used to it by now. It had been the story of his life. Hell, his own parents had taught him that he didn't matter to anyone at a young age. Should have accepted it and become the loner he tried so valiantly to portray himself as. But no matter how hard he tried to keep people at a safe distance, he always ended up dropping his guard and letting someone get close enough to screw him over, stab him in the back or drop him like he was nothing more than a piece of trash.

Sometimes, he really wished he learned how to keep his emotions out of the equation and his mind on nothing but the game plan like Seth. He may want to fillet the meat from the sellout's bones but he had to give the devil his due on that front. The architect would never get stabbed in the back by someone like James Ellsworth because he'd never be stupid enough to see the guy as more than a means to an end. Never would have felt guilty for using someone. Wouldn't have helped the kid stick around after he outlived his usefulness.

He was stuck with Ellsworth on Smack-Down.

For now.

A slow, sadistic smirk crept across Dean's mouth as a million violent, bloody scenarios raced through his mind. Oh how he yearned to inflict them on the chinless mutant. To hear the bones breaking, the screams ring in his ears and the pathetic whimpers escaping him as he was tortured for his betrayal. He had warned James not to get in his way again. Told him that there'd be no forgiveness or mercy next time. Guess Ellsworth didn't understand or didn't believe it.

Thought that he'd somehow be exempt from revenge for sticking his non-existent chin in Dean's business when he had no right. The chinless weasel was wrong. Dead wrong. He would suffer and his blood would flow. Ellsworth was going to learn the hard way that you don't screw over Dean Ambrose.

That lesson would start Tuesday.

James was going to find out how easily his dream could turn into a nightmare.


	67. Holidays

_December 20, 2011_

Dean ignored the boisterous chatter going on around him in the locker room, pushed down his exhaustion after doing double taping's the past two days and focused on getting himself packed up to leave the warehouse for the next two weeks. It was important that he made sure that he had everything because he wouldn't be able to come back for it. As of now, it was their Christmas and New Years break which meant that no one would be at the facility for the next fifteen days. The powers that be were pretty much already gone, only the underlings were still around to handle closing up shop. Most of his fellow wrestlers were airport bound as soon as they finished changing and heading back to wherever the hell they came from.

Back to their family and friends. To their normal Holiday traditions. The loving families that missed them. Childhood homes holding years of happy memories of Christmases gone by. The smell of dinner cooking, carol's on the radio and sappy movies on the television.

Traveling in the insanity wasn't on his agenda. Not at all. He sure as hell wasn't venturing back to the freezing cold and piles of snow that were bound to be in Cincinnati in order to spend time with his horror-show of a so called family. The only holiday memories awaiting in his childhood apartment that he could recall were not pleasant ones. They were waking up every year to find that there were no presents, his mother getting drunk before noon then she'd spend the rest of the day screaming at whoever she was involved with which left him no choice but to eat crappy soup from a can as he witnessed his mother shoot up until she passed out.

Too bad Norman Rockwell never painted that scene. He could have called it Christmas in the projects, a study in dysfunction. Might not be a best seller though. Not many people wanted a reminder that the holiday's weren't always picturesque and phony. That they could be the stuff of nightmares.

Best decision he ever made was when he walked away from that monstrosity at fifteen and never went back. A few of his friend's had made an offer for him to come to their houses but he knew that they were just scrapping by themselves and really couldn't afford having another mouth to feed during the holidays. He declined the invites and decided that he was better served staying in Florida. His little dump of an apartment might not be much but it gave him the ability to have himself a low key day filled with pizza, crappy b-movies and a shit-ton of Jack Daniels. Honestly he was looking forward to being able to sleep in, stay in whatever he wore to bed the night before and not have to deal with anything that he didn't want to.

It might not be most people's idea of a how the holiday should be commemorated but it suited him just fine. He was actually kind of looking forward to it. Maybe this would be the start of his own yearly tradition. His own personal middle finger to conformity. No sappy movies, no obnoxious carols and definitely no garish fucking decorations would be involved in his festivities.

"You know, I never really know if you're actively ignoring people or if you've just completely zoned out." The rumbling voice broke into his thoughts.

Dean turned his head, offering the man who must have sat next to him during his introspection a slight grin. "Sorry, was lost in my head again. What's up?"

Roman nodded, getting used to his quirks. "I just wanted to catch up with you before you left and wish you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year."

"Same to you and yours man."

"So you flying out tonight or going to wait until tomorrow?" The dark haired man inquired with a smile.

"Nah, I'm staying here."

Something flashed over the bigger man's face at that announcement. "Oh? Your family coming down to your place?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, averting his gaze. Guess his lack of a happy family wasn't as common knowledge as he thought it was. But he wasn't about to open that box of misery and expose someone like Roman to the horrors inside. The man was all about family since he'd grown up in a big, loving, support one and would never be able to understand that not everyone was as lucky. "Nope, no family involved in my plans."

"Huh." The Samoan looked troubled by that. "Some of your buddies from the Indy's gonna drop in?"

"No."

"So you're going to be alone for Christmas?"

"Yup, just gonna kick back and chill." His leg jiggled in a steady rhythm. "Sleep til whenever the hell I feel like it, reheat some pizza and drink til I can't drink no more."

Roman looked even sadder at that proclamation, mouth twisted in a frown. Brown eyes bored holes into him, as if he was searching for something below the surface. "Doesn't sound very…holiday-ish to me."

"Well I thought about heading to Vegas but the airlines charge you double to book a flight at the last minute so I scrapped the idea." A shrug followed that. "Might do it next year though if I make it to the big stage."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, why not?" He waved a hand in dismissal and changed the topic, wanting to get it as far away from him and his lack of plans as possible. "So you heading back home or is the family coming to you?"

"I'm leaving for Pensacola in the morning." Roman shook his head, "Although I got to admit that I'm not looking forward to the seven hour drive."

Dean nodded, a low whistle passing his lips. "Especially when you got your daughter with you. Poor kid. She's not going to be happy having to be strapped down in a car seat for so long."

"That's actually why my girlfriend and daughter flew there today instead." A shrug followed that statement. "Figured she'd handle a short flight a hell of a lot better than being stuck in the car for most of the day."

"Well damn, that's a long ass drive to make yourself."

"Yeah but what can you do?"

"Why don't you fly?"

A wry grin tugged at the older man's lips. "Because airlines charge you double for last minute flights."

A bark of laughter tumbled out of his mouth at that. Touché. He shook his head, "Good to know I'm not the only cheap bastard around here."

Silence lingered for a few moments then Roman did something unexpected. "You could come home for the holidays with me."

That caught him off guard and he froze. What the hell? Yeah, he'd admit that they were getting to be friends and pretty good ones at that. He'd gone to a couple of Roman's parties and met a lot of his family. Hell he even hung out with the big man and his cousins the Uso's when they were off the road, drinking and playing cards or something stupid shit like that. But this was different. Holidays were a time for family, not people you barely knew. "Um, what did you say?"

"Come with me to Pensacola." He sounded a lot more confident in the offer now. "It'd be fun and my parents wouldn't care. The more the merrier."

"Your parents wouldn't care that you're bringing someone that they only met a couple of times to their house for the holidays?" His tone was dubious. "That someone's who's basically a stranger would be sleeping in their home and that they'd have another mouth to feed?"

"No, wouldn't bother them at all." The words sounded sincere. "And man, you saw how we did it for the fourth of July and my daughter's birthday, there's like triple the food for Christmas."

Dean's mouth twitched down into a frown and to hide it, he chewed anxiously on his already bitten down thumbnail. "You know you don't have to do this right?"

"Do what?"

"Invite me cause you feel bad." He clarified flatly. "I'm fine being by myself cause Holiday's are just another day to me."

Roman rolled his eyes, "That's not why I'm inviting you."

"Right."

"Seriously man, I get that you're independent and you're fine with your plans. Really I do." He let out a breath. "This isn't some pity invite or whatever you think it is. I know we haven't known each other for years but we've gotten pretty tight over these last few months which is rare when you're an adult. I wasn't in FCW to make friends but it's a nice surprise that I have.

"Ok," Fingers drummed at his collarbone. "I mean, I still don't really get why you'd invite me to tag along and intrude on your family time."

"Because even though I haven't known you forever, you've become my best friend over these last few months." The darker haired man informed him passionately. "I have a blast hanging out with you and my family likes you. Mom always asks how you are whenever we're on the phone and dad has a ton of stories from his days on the road that he's dying to tell you. My daughter adores you man, asks me all the time if Uncle Dean is coming over. Jimmy and Jey basically consider you another cousin."

Blue eyes blinked in surprise.

"So when you said that you have no plans, I figured why not invite you along? Getting to have everyone I care about together, under one roof during this time of the year would be great. That's better than any present under the tree for me."

"Uh-" But he's cut off unapologetically by the bigger man who's on a tangent.

"And if I knew from the jump that you weren't going back to Cincinnati or Philly, I would have made the invitation weeks ago." Roman pinches the bridge of his nose. "But I just assumed you were and that's my fault."

A chuckle slipped out of his mouth at that, his head shaking in disbelief. "Are you seriously blaming yourself for not knowing my plans when I never mentioned them? Come on Ro, that's ridiculous!"

"As ridiculous as assuming that whenever someone invites you some place that they're only doing it because they feel sorry for you? Not because they genuinely want you there or that they actually like hanging out with your sarcastic, twitchy ass?"

Dean glared at him but there was no real heat in the look. How could he when the older man was being all logical and shit? Didn't mean that he'd admit that out loud. "I'm not twitchy!"

"Uh-huh and you don't wiggle either."

His fist hit the bigger man's shoulder, "Ass, why am I friend's with you again?"

"So what do you say?" Roman was back to being serious. "You want to come and hang out with us for the holidays? I can guarantee that there's no way in hell that you'll be bored."

"Fine but on one condition."

"What's that?"

"We split the drive time." Dean offered. "I'll take the first leg of the trip obviously since I don't know where the hell your family lives."


	68. Deja-Vu

**Author's Note: Since I got a couple of pm's and people seem to be confused about this, I feel the need to remind everyone that this is not one story. It's just a collection of random drabbles, one shots and short series all in one space because I don't want a million fic bits cluttering up the main page. So if you don't like that then don't bother to read any further.**

 **P.S: I feel so bad for Seth. Worst luck ever.**

* * *

 _February 1, 2017_

Seth felt the unwelcome sense of déjà vu blanket him as he sat in the all too familiar chair in the office of Dr. Andrews. He'd been feeling that a lot these past few days. His mind kept conjuring up memories of what happened in Dublin and juxtaposing them against the images of what took place Monday. The similarities plagued his every thought. Shook him to his very core.

Knee buckling unexpectedly. The quick, sharp pain that shot through it. That odd feeling of not being able to really walk but wobble unsteadily to the ropes. A referee and medic helping him into the back and to the trainers room. Knowing something had just gone horribly wrong and hoping that it wasn't major.

Just like last time, he felt like he was going to be sick as he waited for the doctor to come back with the results of the tests they performed. This was the hardest part. The waiting and wondering. Hoping that whatever he heard wasn't going to be too devastating. That somehow, someway, he managed to avoid completely destroying his knee this time.

The ping of his phone alerting him to new messages provided a constant and annoying soundtrack to his wait. But he didn't look to see who it was or what they said. He wasn't mentally or emotionally prepared to read the sympathy or sage advice that people most sent his way. He'd wait until he knew for sure before he opened them. That way, he'd know how to respond.

If the news was good then he thank them politely and inform them that he would be alright. Thank them for the good thoughts. Chuckle in relief about how he dodged a bullet. Promise to be more careful. Maybe even take things slower and consider changing his finishing move from the pedigree.

If the news wasn't what he wanted to hear then he would need those kind words, well wishes and reminders to stay strong. Thank them for caring. Vent his fears and frustrations about having a second major injury in under two years. Vow to put all his energy toward his recovery. Remind them, and himself, that if anyone could come back from something of this magnitude again, it was him.

Not that he wanted to have to do the latter.

It was the last thing he even wanted to think about having to do.

Because that meant he'd be sidelined for another Wrestle-Mania. Stuck sitting on the sidelines and watching everything as a spectator. Trying to push down the frustration and depression that threatened to consume him as he sat in the skybox. Hating every minute of watching his friends get to have their moments and wondering if he'd ever get the chance to have another. Wondering what the universe had against him to make him relieve the worst time of his life.

He quickly pushed that thought from his mind. It was way too much to deal with right then. Far too overwhelming to even consider that it was the reality he was facing once again. Dealing with an injury was tough enough but allowing your mind to blow it up and make it worse than it might be was a bad path to take. Because once you started on that path, it was hard to get off of it.

For all he knew, he just tweaked his knee and would be fine.

But if not then what he needed to do was just breathe and focus on the task that lay ahead. Getting back to full health as quickly as he could. Return to the ring better than ever. Slay the king. Get gold back around his waist.

The door opened and the doctor entered, a file in his hand. No doubt it contained the results from this round of testing. He took his seat at the table and gave him a long, solemn look. "Well, there's good news and bad news. What do you want to hear first?"

Seth considered that but decided that there was no use in prolonging the inevitable. "Give me the bad news."

"Preliminary testing indicates that you've torn your MCL."

He felt his heart sink, "How bad?"

"Second grade tear."

That blow hit him hard but he swallowed around the lump in his throat. "So I guess we start talking surgery, huh?"

"Actually, I don't advocate surgery for an MCL tear unless treatment fails."

Relief streaked through him but he pushed it down, wanting to hear the course of treatment for this injury. "What exactly is the treatment for this injury?"

"You'll remain in hinged knee brace and on crutches until the pain subsides. There'll be range of motion exercises to help with the mobility. Rest, ice, compression and elevation a few times a day to combat inflammation. Medication to assist with that." Dr. Andrews informed him patiently. "Once the pain is completely gone and you can pass the tests then we can clear you."

It all sounded good. Too good. His gaze was narrowed, questioning as he settled it on the doctor once again. "How long are we typically looking at?"

"The good news is that it's a much shorter recovery time than your previous injury if all goes according to plan."

"How long?" He repeated, having a feeling that despite that reassurance that he wouldn't like the answer.

"Anywhere from eight to twelve weeks depending on how the knee responds to treatment."

His brain immediately started calculating. Wrestle-Mania was in nine weeks. If all went well then he could be cleared right before the show of shows. That meant that there was a possibility that he could avoid only watching the proceedings on the sidelines. Again. It meant that there was a chance. "Eight weeks would be the goal."

"Eight weeks is possible but we do have to factor in how your previously surgically repaired may or may not respond." Doctor Andrews cautioned. "Pushing yourself too hard to obtain the eight week goal, the risk of further injuring your knee becomes a serious prospect. If that was to occur then we would be back in here and discussing surgery."

Seth nodded but had already decided that he was going to do whatever was humanly possible to get back in the shortest amount of time that he could. He would work harder than ever before. Be cleared for Wrestle-Mania and get revenge on Triple H and his lackey Samoa Joe. Show them that they couldn't keep him down, that he would always come back better than before. Because there was no other option in his eyes, anything else would be a failure.

"I have all the information for you right here," Dr. Andrews reached into the folder and withdrew a packet. "If you feel any discomfort that you feel is abnormal or you have any questions, feel free to call."

"I will." He slowly made his way to his feet, ready for the latest chapter in the rebuilding Seth Rollins story.


	69. Deja-Vu 2

_February 1, 2017_

Seth made himself as comfortable as he could be on the couch with his knee elevated and an ice pack wrapped around it. He finally drew out his phone to respond to he myriad of texts and voicemails that had accumulated over the past couple of days. His family and closest non-wrestler friend's messages were answered first. Then he moved through the ones from Cesaro, Sami and members of the New Day. A small, tired laugh actually bubbled out of him as he read the messages from Jimmy Jacobs and Marek, both of them threatening to wrap him bubble wrap and hide him away until next Wrestle-Mania.

He took a deep breath before he opened the chain from Roman.

 _"Hey man, I saw what happened and you being helped to the back. This part of the storyline or do I need to be concerned?"_

 _"Okay, the camera's were rolling as you made your way out on crutches. I'm really hoping that means this is all for show. Playing some mind games with Triple H and his hired goon."_

 _"The fact that you're not responding got me worried. Just text me back and let me know what's up?"_

 _"Talked to Cesaro and he told me it's not a work and that you're heading right now home then down to Alabama to see the doc. I'm sorry man. Hope it's nothing major. No worries, I'll make sure to get my hands on Joe as soon as I can. Believe that little brother."_

 _"Heard your appointment's today. Good luck Uce and let me know how it goes. No matter what, ok?"_

He felt warm as he reread the messages. Having Roman back in his life, as a friend and brother, made all the difference. When he was in the authority, he was surrounded by people but had never felt so lonely. Missed the real companionship and brotherhood that he'd had in the Shield. Knowing that the people he was putting his trust in, really had his back.

His finger hit the phone icon and he decided that this one deserved a phone call. It rang only twice before it was answered. "Hey man, just got back from the doctor's and wanted to fill you in."

"What's the verdict Uce?" Roman's deep voice was soothing and concerned, a little bit shaky.

"Torn MCL but no surgery." He let out a shaky breath. "If rehab goes well then I can be back in eight weeks. Just in time for Mania."

"I'm still going to get Joe." The was a thoughtful hum. "If the king of kings has the balls to show to his face before then, well, I'll get him too."

"Make their lives hell Big Dog but save a little something for me." There was a wide, genuine smile stretched across his face. "I've been waiting a long time to get my hands on the Cerebral Assassin."

"You already know."

They chatted for a few more minutes, Roman in overprotective big brother mode. He made him promise to update him at least two a week on his progress. Told him not to push himself. That he could work hard but don't overdo and risk being out longer. Reminded him that if he needed help or anything at all, he was there for him.

Seth felt mollified by the concern, how could he not considering what he had done to the older man in the past? Without argument, he agreed to follow the doctor's orders. He reminded Roman to watch his own back since he had a monster gunning for him. When he hung up, he still felt that warmth he had since he opened the text chain. With a sigh, he went back to his texts to finish looking through them.

His eyes popped wide as he saw the next name on the list. This one was one that he hadn't been expecting. Been a long time since that name had shown up on the list of received Text messages. Made him wonder what lay inside. Scornful mockery? Telling him that he got what he deserved? Laughter at his stupidity for not seeing it coming?

With a finger that trembled slightly, he pushed on the name to open them and wondered what he was going to read. He sucked in a loud, whistling breath as Dean's texts were revealed to him.

 _"What the fuck man? This bullshit or not?"_

 _"You ain't answering so that's telling me it ain't just for show."_

 _"You want me to take em' out? Say the word and I'll do it."_

 _"I mean, I owe ya one for the assist at Survivor Series."_

 _"You know I don't like owing people shit."_

 _"Hit me back and let me know."_

His eyes re-scanned the texts, not believing them to be real. Because while things weren't as bad as they had been, it was still surprising that Dean would have reached out. They were civil when they saw each other at joint shows. Exchanged calm but still somewhat distant greetings or a nod of acknowledgement. Were finally able to be near each other without the dirty blonde trying to kill him or cursing him out.

Honestly, a text was more than he thought that he'd ever get again from his former brother. But this, well, this was really shocking. A series of texts with no scorn or malice. No enjoyment of his predicament. A uniquely Dean offer to help.

His finger hovered over the keyboard on his screen as he tried to figure out what to say. But nothing was coming with him. A text just didn't feel right. It could just wasn't personal enough. Didn't convey his appreciation that Dean would even spare a moment to think about him.

He hit the phone icon before he could chicken out.

It rang four times, before a slightly breathless lunatic fringe answered, "Yo?"

"Hey Deano, sorry to interrupt you if you were busy. I just wanted to call and thank you for your texts." He grimaced, his voice sounding tentative to his own ears. "I appreciate it man."

"Why the fuck you bein' so formal? No need to put on the act for me. Know you ain't that stuffy unless a camera's rollin' and you're acting like a douche ." That gravel rasp was as blunt as always. Something that was as comforting as it was off-putting. "I wasn't busy, just takin' a swim. Had to find my phone."

"Oh."

"So you want me to take a pipe to those bastards knees or what?" There was the unmistakable sound of beer being opened then a long swallow. "Say the word and it's a done deal."

A loud bark of laughter escaped him and he shook his head even though the other man couldn't see it. Never change Dean, never change. "You know what? Ask me again at Mania."

"You gonna be at Mania for us to have that convo?" There was the distinct sound of fingers drumming on something. "I'm talking in the ring, not the backstage or skybox."

"Possibly," He let out a breath. "The knee responds to treatment and I'll be back in time."

There was a thoughtful hum, "I'll be waiting."

Seth didn't want to push for more than Dean was willing to give. Already, this was more than he ever expected. Plus Dean was never one for phones. So he decided to wrap things up and internally fist pumped over this easy interaction. "Thanks man, you know, for offering."

"Like I said, owe ya one." There was a chuckle. "And you know, I always pay back my debts. Listen; you change your mind and wanna take me up on it before Mania, just hit me up."

"I might do that."

"Cool, later man."

The call disconnected and Seth set his phone down on the couch, wondering if maybe there could be something good to come out of this injury after all.


	70. Deja-Vu 3

**_Author's Note: Damn Seth, that promo. It was what I wanted to see from him for a long time. He killed it. Wish he would have mentioned regretting what he did to Roman and Dean though._**

* * *

 _February 27, 2017_

By the time Seth made it back to his hotel room, he was mentally and emotionally wrecked. That was what happened when you inadvertently ended up baring your soul in front of a live audience of thousands and millions of people watching on television. When you voiced every epiphany you've had over the course of the last four weeks and really, ones that had been teasing at your mind for the last fifteen months. It had hit him hard, realizing that he'd actually been expecting this all along. Knew, even on that fateful June second almost three years ago, that this was more than a distinct possibility.

It was like a knife in the heart.

He hadn't bothered to stick around after screaming his threat at Hunter. It had been harder than he expected. Standing in that ring, staring into the soulless eyes of the so called creator. Knowing that this was all he got. That his chance to fight the man who started the ruin of his life had most likely passed him by.

His chest felt like it might explode.

He never should have agreed to do that interview. Corey had promised him that he wasn't going to go in on him, that he'd just stick to the basics and let him say his piece. He'd been a man of his word. The questions he asked had been softballs, nothing like the ones he faced when he betrayed his brothers. Ones that he could have answered truthfully but unemotionally.

Just like he planned to do.

As soon as he said he'd do it, he sat down and started working on his game plan. Writing down possible questions and answers then fine tuning them until they were perfectly crafted. He practiced in front of his mirror for hours, making sure to keep what he was feeling from showing on his face. To make sure that he wasn't giving away anything he didn't want to. Like the fact that it might not be possible for him to make it to Wrestle-Mania.

Too bad Seth hadn't been able to keep it together.

All his carefully prepared answers had fled him as soon as he started making his way down the ramp and his feelings became overwhelming. He'd stumbled through his answers, knowing that every emotion he felt was bleeding through every word that escaped his mouth. So many times, he had to pause to gather himself. To try to get his normally cool, analytical mind to shift back to that failsafe but he couldn't. It was just too much, being out there and confronting the betrayal, the truths.

He couldn't deny it any longer.

It was Karma since he betrayed his brothers for the authority and ended up being betrayed by the people he'd done it for. Sure, fences had been somewhat mended. Blows were no longer expected when they were near each other. But he'd never be trusted like he had been prior to the chair-shot heard around the world. Never be let back in completely because they'd doubt his sincerity.

Of course, it wasn't finished there.

It showed him that Hunter and Stephanie could just replace him. Proven to him that he was as disposable as everyone else on the roster. Make sure that all the ill-gotten gains he received when he was their golden boy couldn't be reclaimed when he was on his own. Showed no mercy as they gloated about being the reason that his dreams had crashed and burned again. Rejoiced in the fact that he was going to miss the biggest event in sports-entertainment for a second year running.

But he wasn't ready to lie down and accept it.

Seth meant what he said, he was going to Wrestle-Mania. Didn't matter if the doctor's cleared him or not. He'd be there. Even if it turned out to be the last thing he ever did, he was going to take out Triple H. It wouldn't be easy, wouldn't be pretty but he was going to do whatever he had to do.

He grabbed his phone, ready to send out a tweet.

His finger froze when he saw that he had missed messages. He'd been hoping that he'd have some time before he got texts. With the things he said, things he admitted in not so many words, there was only two people that these could be from. Wearily, he pressed the envelope and tried to steel himself for what was probably waiting inside.

A semi-long message from Roman.

 _"I hope you're alright. That couldn't have been easy. It was intense and I'm not talking about just the face-off. I don't know when you're heading back to Iowa but if you want to talk later, I'm not rolling out until the morning."_

He appreciated the concern, the offer to unload.

It was completely undeserved though. Because when Roman was going through his suspension back in the summer, Seth had taken the ammunition and exploited the situation as much as he possibly could. Tried to use it to his advantage. Get the long awaited Shield triple threat turned into a one on one with Dean.

Such a despicable move by someone who claimed he had redesigned everything.

To this day, he wondered why the hell Roman kept letting him back into his life. He'd done nothing to atone for it. Oh yeah, he made the save a few times when Kevin and Chris were ganging up on the big dog. But what motivated him to do it hadn't been completely unselfish. After all, he also had a grudge against the so called best friend's.

He quickly sent back a short reply, "Thanks but need some time."

God, that was an understatement. There was never enough time when your life was falling apart. Two years and eight months hadn't been long enough. Fifteen months hadn't been long enough. Thirty-three days didn't feel anywhere close to being long enough.

His eyes darted to the next set of messages, the ones from Dean.

 _"What the fuck?"_

 _"Dude."_

 _"I'm gonna show up at NXT or RAW and get that motherfucker."_

 _"You better fuck him up at Mania or I'm gonna."_

He let out a breath that he didn't realize that he'd been holding. That wasn't what he was expecting. At all. Knowing what he said during his interview, the things he couldn't bring himself to admit, he was expecting the familiar anger. Expecting that the civility they'd built in the last few months to be torn to shreds because of it.

But somehow it hadn't.

Seth knew his reply had to be more direct this time. The dirty blonde would not accept any excuses. No more denials. He chewed pensively on his lower lip as his finger hovered over the letters. Nothing that came to him seemed like enough, didn't feel right in this situation.

His finger shifted and hit the phone icon before he even thought about it.

It was answered before the first ring even ended, "You taking me up on my offer?"

"No, that's not why I called." He brought his uninjured knee up to his chest and rested his chin on it as he tried to find the words. A place to start. "Did you see the whole interview?"

The pause that followed that question told him everything and when Dean spoke again, his gravelly voice was stilted. "Yeah."

"I meant what I said, I deserve all of this for what I did."

Another weighty pause followed that declaration. Then Dean cleared his throat with a cough and his voice came back on the line. "You believe that shit?"

Again, that was not what he was expecting to hear and his eyes widened. Especially considering the source. "But you always say what goes around, comes back around. I'm surprised that you don't have it tattooed on you."

"Doesn't mean I actually believe it." There was a huff. "There's too many evil, fucked up people in this world for me to actually think that Karma exists."

"I…but…" He trailed off, disbelieving.

"Ok, brass tacks here."

He took a deep breath and prepared himself, "Shoot."

"Did you do some real scummy shit? Yeah, you did. Were you being a selfish asshole? You bet your ass you were. Did you deserve every time Roman and I fucked you up and made you look stupid? Believe that brother." Dean's words are sharp, unyielding, cutting into him deep. "But man, I won't lie to you and say that you deserved to fuck up your knee two years in a row. Even I ain't that much of a spiteful prick."

Seth feel the sudden onslaught of heat that pricks his eyes. "How can you say that? After everything I've done, especially to you…"

"Trust me, that's a chat we're gonna have sometime." There's a gruff chuckle. "And I'll probably punch you in the face during it but right now, you need to focus on getting your knee right so you can come back and slay the king of kings. The rest, can wait until after Mania."


	71. Deja-Vu 4

_March 13, 2017_

The Examination room looked like every other one in every hospital throughout the country. Bland. Cold. Impersonal. Lately, he'd been in one of these rooms too often and it definitely wasn't where he envisioned spending his night. Well, technically since it was after midnight now, his early morning.

But things went awry and this is where he ended up, waiting to hear an update on his condition.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Roman raged, well maybe raged was kind of strong considering his voice hadn't risen and he was still clutching his head after Braun Strowman bulldozed him on the ramp. "You've been working so hard to overcome this injury and get back in time for Mania. Then for some reason, you go and do something like this?"

Seth sighed, trying to get comfortable as he waited for the doctor to come back with the latest news about his knee. Yes, he'd taken a chance and it might have ended up backfiring on him. It would suck if it did. Probably crush him. It was almost worth it though since he finally managed to get his hands on Triple H, to dish out a little bit of payback for all the shit he'd been put through.

"All you had to do was stay away until Wrestle-Mania."

"Hunter would've targeted me knee in our match anyway." He defended his admittedly rash decision half-heartedly. "That's what he does. You know that better than most."

"I do but when he broke my nose, I stayed away until it was healed."

"The knee was fine until he brought the damn crutch into play." A sneer of contempt twisted his lips and he shook his head.

"But it would have been stronger in three weeks than it is now." The Samoan man pointed out flatly. "Why risk it?"

"I didn't plan it." His admission shocked the other man if his face was any indication. "I just reacted to what was going on. I couldn't let him destroy Mick like he'd done to so many others."

"You were at the show though." Brown eyes narrowed, trying to get a read on him. "I was wondering why you just so happened to be there."

"To be evaluated by the WWE medics, which is not negotiable." He rolled his eyes, because in his opinion it was stupid that you had to be cleared by your doctor and by the WWE's but whatever. "Figured I'd stick around and watch the show, catch up with you and a few of the guys."

"Uh-huh." Didn't sound like he believed that.

That put him on the defensive because he wasn't the only one who made a big mistake at the show tonight. "By the way, you really shouldn't be giving me shit for what I did when you blew off getting advice from HBK."

A flush worked it's way over Roman's cheeks, "I didn't mean for it to come off like that."

"It did."

"Listen, I appreciate what Shawn was saying. Really, I do. Taker's tough but he's not indestructible. Hasn't been in a long time. I can take him."

"Shawn was right though." Seth admonished. "Physically, you have a slight edge. But if you let the mind games get to you then Taker's already got a huge advantage by the time you two face off. "

"I know."

"Not to mention that Strowman doesn't exactly seem like he's done with you." He raised an eyebrow as he gave his brother a pointed glance. "How's your head?"

"It hurts but I've had worse." A rueful grin cracked the big dog's lips. "Perk of being Samoan, we got hard heads."

A nod followed that assertion, "Tell me something I don't know man."

"It runs in the family since both my little brother's have the same problem too." His look was that all too familiar disapproving dad-like look he got when one of them got injured.

Seth decided to shift the focus, "You hear from Dean?"

"No but that's not surprising considering what happened. You know how he gets." Lines of annoyance and worry were etched into Roman's face. "I just don't know what the hell goes on in his head sometimes. He jumped out of a damn ambulance…"

"Not the first time."

"Probably won't be the last either." A groan erupted from the older man. "Since you've decided to follow in his footsteps and throw caution to the wind, the two of you are going to give me gray hair."

He blinked, shocked. "You're comparing what I did to what Dean regularly does?"

"Yep."

"But I-this isn't-" Seth made a frustrated sound. "I didn't…"

"You went down to the ring, without a plan, knowing that you're injured and picked a fight. That sound familiar at all?"

It really did. Dean had done the same thing so many times over the years. Instead of taking time off and letting that shoulder heal, he'd just push on. Ignoring all of the medic's advice in favor of exacting revenge. Didn't care about the fact that what he was doing could make his injury worse. That he was risking everything for a few minutes of satisfaction that inevitably ended with him in worse shape when his enemy turned the tables.

Before now, he never understood that mindset. Never could wrap his head around what could possibly drive Dean to ignore every shred of common sense and advice just so he could get some payback. It wasn't logical or smart strategy. Didn't make any kind of sense to walk into a battle with a blatant injury, especially if the person you were going after was the one who caused it. Was stupid to allow emotions to override your brain and act impulsively.

But now, he understood.

When you were in that situation, nothing mattered. Except retribution. Making that person pay was the only thing you had to get you through the hard times. Used it to fuel you, to motivate your actions. It became a war and more often than not, strategy and common sense got tossed to the side for a chance at some good, old fashioned payback.

He swallowed thickly, "I'd do it again."

"I know that you will." A ghost of a smile pulled at Roman's lips. "Just like I know that Dean will be at SmackDown tonight and will do something that damn near gives me a heart attack."


	72. Deja-Vu 5

_March 27, 2017_

Seth eyes locked on the ice bag that was wrapped tightly around his throbbing knee. The skin looked fine, a little reddened from the table and the cheap shot but otherwise alright. Too bad he couldn't see inside. That would provide him the real answer as to whether or not his knee was up to the task. His doctor and physical therapist said it wasn't but they didn't understand why he needed to do this now, why he couldn't afford to wait any longer.

Not that anyone else really knew why it had to be now.

It was almost exactly three years ago, after Wrestle-Mania 30 that Triple H had began quietly trying to recruit him into the authority. Began to break him down with praise and promises of an unlimited future. Poked and prodded at the doubts he secretly harbored about his brothers. Played on the insecurities that he always tried to hide. Started him on the path that would send him into a tailspin of betrayal and regret.

At first, he had shrugged it all off. Focused on beating Evolution. But Triple H kept on sending him text messages with all these amazing scenario's of the future he'd always dreamed of. Played on the hastily repaired cracks in the armor of the Shield, harping on the fact that Roman's lineage was proof enough that he was destined for greater things than just being in a stable and that Dean, as crazy and unpredictable as he was, was the one the fans loved and wanted to see win gold. That while he was a great wrestler, he wasn't going to elevate himself like those two would because he didn't have their presence or the ability to draw people in on the microphone.

In the end, he had agreed to sell his soul to devil for a shiny briefcase and the chance to make his dreams a reality.

He fell in line easily, determined to make this arraignment work because there was nothing else for him to fall back on since he destroyed his brotherhood. Did everything that was asked of him without questioning it, no matter how sick it made him deep down inside. Allowed everything he had worked his entire life for to be tarnished by constant interference despite the fact that he could no longer stand the sight of his own reflection anymore. Figured that he'd proven to them that he was invaluable to their continued success because they made him believe that he needed them. Thought that once he returned from his injury, things would go back to how they were prior despite the fact that they never reached out to him while he was gone.

That had been his stupidity. Somehow, he'd forgotten that Triple H had no loyalty to anyone but himself. Ignored that he'd turn on you or throw you away the second you outlived your usefulness. Replace you with the next person who was willing enough to sell their soul for power and money. The cerebral assassin had done it countless times over the course of his career, to numerous people and would continue unless he was stopped.

Which was why he had to do this.

Until he redeemed himself for the choices he'd foolishly made, he would not be able to move forward. The specter of the past would always be there, weighing him down and making it impossible for him to enjoy any success he found. Wouldn't fully be able to feel like he made amends to the people he owed it to if he didn't slay the evil king who had enticed him away from them. He needed that closure. Had to know that he had righted the biggest wrong he ever committed and that he'd done it on his own.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of the hotel room door opening. Roman came into the room, looked at him and shook his head in exasperation as he began to unpack the things he had in the plastic bag.

 _Nyquil._

 _Motrin._

 _Soup._

 _Orange Juice._

A small grin twisted Seth's lips and he felt a stirring of warmth bloom in his chest. This was so achingly familiar. Every time one of them mentioned not feeling well, Roman had completely gone into dad mode. Came back with supplies. Forced them to do what was best for them.

"Since you decided to ignore my advice and sign that hold harmless agreement," The statement cut off with a deep growl of disapproval. "I'm not going to let you walk into the fight sick on top of being injured."

"You're too good to me Rome." It was true. After all the shit he pulled, he didn't deserve anything from the older man. He lifted the cover on the still warm soup and the scent of chicken noodle filled his stuffy nose. "I appreciate everything you've done for me."

"Yeah, well, that's what brothers do."

He felt funny hearing that. Brothers. Not a title he earned back yet. But he would. Once he took down Triple H then he'd prove that he was worthy of being called that again.

Roman looked at his phone and groaned, "Speaking of, our other brother is driving me crazy. He wants to make his match with Corbin a bloody debacle, the likes of which hasn't been seen in years."

"I'm surprised Corbin's not agreeing with it." He swallowed a spoonful of soup. "Seems like that'd be right up his alley."

"He probably will agree." There was a heavy, weighted sigh. "But the last thing I want to be doing after Wrestle-Mania is taking care of both of your injuries."

Seth ate more of his soup, considering. "You know, we are adults. That means that we can take care of ourselves."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm serious!" Mock outrage infused his tone. "While we appreciate it, you don't have to try to step in and save us all the time."

"Right because it goes so well when I leave the two of you to your own devices." Brown eyes rolled and his head shook. "You sign a hold harmless agreement for a match that could end your career and Dean tries to fulfill his underlying need to spill blood be it his own or someone else's."

"Well, when you put it like that, it sounds bad."

"Hate to break it to you but no matter how I put it, neither of you come out looking like responsible adults."

"I'm doing this for redemption. To get back the person I was before I sold my soul." He stated firmly. "Just like you needed to fight him last year to avenge being screwed over."

"I just don't get why you have to do it right now."

"Because if I wait, he'll find a way to avoid me. It already looks like he's building toward something with Kevin and Joe. If I don't act now then by the time I'm cleared, he'll have his little minions to throw in my way and I'll never get my hands on him." Seth held his gaze because Roman knew all too well how true that observation was. He'd had the League of Nations thrown in his path to be able to get his hands on Triple H. Took him months of fighting them before he finally managed to score a match with the so-called king of kings.

"Fine, I get it." The older man held up his hands. "Doesn't mean that I like it or that I'll worry any less about you."

"Don't expect you to." He chuckled, slurping down the last of his soup then cracking open his orange juice. "Just like I don't expect Dean to be content with having a straight up one on one match with a guy that attacked him with a pipe then tried to crush him with a forklift."

"I'm going to need to get a good first aid kit." Roman sighed heavily and made his way to the bathroom.


	73. Deja-Vu 6

**_Author's Note: Well, this is a couple of days later than I intended but I needed a bit of a breather after Mania. Watching Undertaker retire was like watching the last bit of my childhood fade away. Very bittersweet. Then this kind of turned out longer than I planned._**

* * *

 _April 3, 2017_

Seth's body hurt, his knee throbbed painfully but he felt great. There was a lightness in him that he felt that he hadn't in a long time. Maybe it was there because he finally accomplished what he set out to do. That match and victory last night had definitely gone a long way to helping him redeem himself for ever being stupid enough to get involved with Triple H. Slaying the king had felt like reclaiming the part of himself he had sold when he accepted the offer to trade his self-respect for guaranteed success.

Normally, he would have gotten up and hit the gym as soon as he could.

But not today.

For once in his life, he wanted to take a while and soak in the feeling of freedom. Savor the fact that he was one step closer to being the man he'd once been. That he was once again doing things his own way, on his own terms, no other agenda. His life and future was back in his hands. The past was buried and everything ahead of him was a fresh, clean slate just waiting for him to create his legacy.

The knock on the door caught him off-guard and he slowly made his way over to it, a frown etched on his face. Cautiously, he looked out the peephole. Who he saw on the other side didn't make him feel better. The sight of Dean outside the door, made his skin prickle with awareness. That conversation they had a few weeks ago, after Seth's sit down interview with Corey came to mind.

 _"Trust me, that's a chat we're gonna have sometime." There's a gruff chuckle. "And I'll probably punch you in the face during it but right now, you need to focus on getting your knee right so you can come back and slay the king of kings. The rest, can wait until after Mania."_

Mania was over.

Looked like the time for that chat had come.

Seth took a deep breath, steeling himself. This was not going to be easy but he knew he owed it to Dean to have this conversation. It had been a long time coming and if there was any hope of them reconciling then it had to be had. The dirty blonde deserved to finally have answers to the questions he had. Was more than deserving of an apology for everything he'd been subjected to.

It was highly likely that he was probably going get punched several times.

Which is what he deserved for his actions.

He pulled open the door slowly and smiled tenuously, "Hey Dean-o."

"Seth." Blue eyes made a head to toe pass over him, pausing and narrowing when they landed on his injured knee. "Still in one piece huh?"

"Yeah, sore but feeling good."

"So you gonna invite me in or you wanna eat breakfast in the hall?" The usual sarcasm barely suppressed the unease in that tone. "I ain't got a problem with that but figured your knee might feel better if we ain't eating off the floor."

His brow furrowed in confusion before landing on the large Denny's bag sitting on the ground by Dean's boots. "You brought food?"

"I'm fucking starving." A shrug followed that. "And I can't deal with all this emotional bullshit on an empty stomach."

He stepped aside, opening the door wider for the current intercontinental to come inside the hotel room. It occurred to him that the place was kind of a mess and he sighed, "Don't mind the state of the place."

"Mine probably looks just as bad." He started pulling containers out of the bag. "I just kind of grabbed everything on the menu. Didn't really know what the hell I wanted."

Seth lifted the cover of one of the containers, eyes popping wide at the mountain of bacon that greeted him. Had to be almost an entire package. "Except bacon since there's about a baby pig's worth in here."

"There's never enough bacon." Dean smirked at his disbelief, producing paper plates and utensils from the depths of the bag. "It makes everything better."

"Uh-huh." More containers were opened to reveal a mountain of pancakes, waffles, eggs, sausages and home-fries. "Am I being too hopeful that there's something in any of these containers that won't clog my arteries?"

Those disheveled curls bounced as the head they rested on nodded, "Way too fucking hopeful. You know I can't eat anything that won't kill you or else I start wasting away to nothing."

That made him chuckle as he started dishing some food on his plate because it was kind of true. It was something they had learned when they all started hanging out in FCW. Dean's plates in catering had always been overflowing to the point that it was almost comical. When Roman casually said that if he even thought about eating all that he'd gain at least twenty pounds, Dean explained that he hard time keeping weight on. That he was prone to quickly dropping pounds due to a screwed up metabolism, especially if he was being forced to eat healthy.

He made himself a plate, grabbed a couple of waters from the mini-fridge then sat down at the table, waiting for the eccentric man to finish filling his own plate. His mind running over the best way to begin their impending conversation. Should he just start with the apology? Launch into explanations of his actions? Or should he just sit back and allow Dean to lead the discussion, offering answers for whatever was asked?

Dean took his seat across from him, grabbed a slice of bacon and gestured toward him with it, "Go ahead and talk but remember, I got the right to punch you for being a fucking idiot."

"That actually sums it up pretty well." He sighed, wishing that there was a better explanation for why he sold his soul. "I wish there was a deeper reason but I just let him get into my head, play on my insecurities, convince me that the only way I would get where I wanted to go was if I took his deal and did everything that the authority asked of me."

"Why?"

His brow wrinkled in confusion. "What?"

"Why did it work?" Blue eyes were hard as they stared into his. "You ain't stupid or blind. Been around this business and promoters long enough to know how their shady asses operate. You know you're fucking talented, that people love watching you. So why did his sales pitch suddenly work?"

"Here, talent only counts for so much. If you aren't connecting to the audience then you're vulnerable. Look at how many talented guys have come and gone over the years. I was just another expendable high flyer."

"Bullshit!" Dean spat around a mouthful of food. "The Shield was massively fucking over. We were drawing money, our merchandise was outselling Cena's. That don't sound like you were in an expendable position to me."

Seth rolled his eyes, "Yeah, that's true but all of the polls the website took, had me ranked as the least interesting and least liked member of the trio. I was getting called the weak link…"

"You know that Triple H probably showed you something he had created right? Cause what I heard from the crowd didn't back that shit up."

He hung his head because he'd never even considered that. "I know that now."

"How come you didn't know it then?" The dirty blonde leaned forward, elbows on the table, face intense. "Why did his smokescreen not trip your well talked about bullshit sensor?"

"Because there was merit in what he said." He took a forkful of pancake and chewed thoughtfully. "I was the one who took the first loss for the Shield. I don't have your charisma or Roman's look and lineage."

"And neither of us can do the things in the ring that you can. It's why it worked, we all brought something different to the mix."

"I guess, maybe, deep down, there was also a part of me that wanted to see what would happen. To see what I could accomplish as Seth Rollins, not as one third of the Shield. To be the one who got to the top first."

That fist clenched, "You could have just told us that. Rome and I weren't holding you hostage. All it would've took was a conversation and we could have disbanded the Shield. Then it would have been off to races for all three of us."

"I know but again, I was afraid that you two would take off like rockets and I'd be left in the dust. You know that I never do anything without a plan. I needed the guaranteed success and I needed to do something that would have people talking about me and prove to the authority that I was all in."

Dean shook his head, mouth pinched in a sneer as he shoved his empty plate away from him quickly. The look on his face screamed disappointment. "Fuck, you're really a piece of fucking work."

"I know and I'm sorry." Seth raked a hand through his hair. "At that point, I really did feel like that was my only chance. It was stupid and weak. If I was faced with the same choice now, I would laugh in his face…"

"Would you?" Those eyes were shrewd as they accessed him. "Cause I think if you never got injured and then replaced by Owens that you'd still be content to be the Golden Boy."

Seth shook his head. "Even if the injury never happened, I was still on my way out. I'd long since outlived my usefulness to them and I wasn't playing by their rules anymore. It was just a matter of time before it blew up."

"Oh yeah?"

He winced, realizing that this wasn't going as well as he hoped it would. But it wasn't really a surprise. Because he knew that Dean wouldn't just accept things at face value, the man didn't work that way. Once his trust was broken, it was difficult to regain. "I was dealing with regrets and questioning directions, tired of not being my own man."

"But when you came back from the first injury…" Dean trailed off, gaze unwavering and a disdainful smirk on his lips.

"I slipped right back into the role of scumbag because I was scared that people forgot me or wouldn't care that I was back." He sighed. "Easiest way to avoid that was use the authority to bypass the line and get back to the top. Means to an end."

There was a hmm and finger tapped a haphazard rhythm on his collarbone.

"You went through hell because of me and my choices. I'm not asking you to forgive and forget. That would be selfish and stupid of me and I've already been that enough." Seth said earnestly. "I just want the chance to prove to you that I've learned from mistakes and that I am sorry."

"I ain't no saint and who knows what I would've done in your shoes." Dean's fingers danced faster on his chest. "And I can let it go, leave that shit in the past and push forward. Work on being friends again."

Despite the reassuring words, Seth felt like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. "I want that more than anything."

"But I don't know if I can ever trust you like I did before." He shimmied slightly, a tell tale tic of being uncomfortable. "If I can ever look at you and see my brother again."

That hurt but it was more than fair, considering all the nasty things he'd said about and done to the other man. "I understand and accept that."

"Cool, then this is settled and we're good."


	74. Third-Anniversary

**_Author's Note: So this is a lot later than I intended but I changed my mind how this was going to go. I blame a huge part of that on rewatching Dean interview Seth on the May 1st Edition of RAW. There was so much tension and bitterness still festering there that I had to explore it._**

* * *

 _June 2, 2017_

Seth felt the tension settle further into his body as he wheeled his suitcases toward the locker room, especially in the tight strung feeling of his shoulders. He was earlier than he needed to be, a lot earlier, but he really wished that this day had fallen on a Wednesday or Thursday, when he wasn't on the road. It would be easier to deal with that way. But no, of course this damn day had to fall on the first day of their house show circuit.

Having to be in the locker room on the anniversary of the destruction of the Shield was never a good time. A lot of the guys, especially the jerks of the group, liked to joke about it. They'd even go so far as to warn whoever he was tagging with that night to watch their back since he was known to favor this date as a day to backstab people. He never laughed at the jokes. There was nothing funny about what happened or what he did, no matter how many times he pretended for the benefit of the audience that he was proud of it.

It made it even worse that first year when Dean was sitting across the room, glaring at him like he wanted to murder him. Thankfully, last year it fell on their off day and he only had to suffer through various website reminders of it. Not that seeing video and gif's of it everywhere he went got any easier. It didn't. He doubted that he'd ever be able to watch footage of the betrayal and not feel sick to his stomach.

Of course, when he arrived at the arena the next day, he had to deal with the jerks asking if he kept tradition alive. They always thought it was so clever. Too bad they didn't realize it just made them look stupid and probably put them on the mental list of the of people to get even with that the self-professed Lunatic kept. At the time, since he was still looked at as a bad guy, he'd just force himself to give a smarmy smirk in response. Made himself not look at Roman and Dean at all during it.

While things with Roman definitely improved once Seth was ousted as the authority's golden boy and had almost gotten back to normal, Dean had kept his distance since he'd been moved back to RAW.

Though there was a possibility this year that wouldn't be as horrible as the ones past. There had been some defrosting between them in the last several months since Survivor Series. At least enough that they could be in the same segments together and weren't punching or taking verbal shots at each other. That was huge progress or at least he'd thought that was the case until a couple of weeks ago when Dean interviewed him.

At first, it had been fun and games. Dean throwing out silly names of a show to host and him shooting them down with the reality that they already existed. The more questions that were thrown at him, the more terse things got. He realized that due to their competitive nature, things had started to go wrong. But nothing could have prepared him for the last zinger that the dirty blonde lobbed at him.

 _"Nah, Dean got surprised once," Those blue eyes were hard and the bitterness that seeped into those words made him flinch. "Can't happen again."_

Just like that, any thoughts he had that the two of them were on the mend were erased. It was painfully obvious that Dean was still holding onto a lot of anger about it. That he'd only been acting like things were okay, that being on the same brand again was nothing. Biding his time until something happened and he had an excuse to release his pent-up frustration. For something to strike a match that would reignite the war between them.

That wasn't what Seth wanted though.

He'd been through hell and back during his wars with Dean. In FCW and the main the main roster. Didn't want to go through it again. Not when he was really making an effort to turn things around, to reclaim the person he was before he sold-out to the authority. Another war with the dirty blonde was something he didn't know if he could endure.

He did feel remorse for what happened and the way it came to be. Regretted not being honest about what he wanted and taking the easy way out instead. Hated that he'd broken Dean's already fragile trust. Detested the things he'd done to the older man after he'd broken the Shield. Wanted to repair the damage and reclaim the friendship he'd so foolishly and callously tossed aside.

But he knew that today was not the right day to try.

It was why Seth had chosen to get to the arena so early. Just one part of his perfectly constructed plan. He wanted to be the first one there today. That way he could claim a nice, out of the way corner of the locker room. Sink into it and hopefully go pretty much unnoticed. Avoid the sure to be tense and awkward encounters with Dean as much as he could.

But like all plans, it crashed and burned as soon he stepped foot inside the locker room.

It wasn't empty.

A blindly thrown t-shirt smacked him in the face. Peeling it off his skin and dropping it to the floor, he had to step aside quickly as another came hurtling toward him. Muttered, raspy curses flowed freely from the mouth of the man bent over his bag on the bench, chucking objects out of it with abandon, as he apparently searched for something in the depths of the mess. "Where the fuck did that stupid ass thing go?"

He tilted his head, watching the all too familiar scene with amusement. It had played out so many times over the years. The dirty blonde was notorious for always losing or forgetting things. Just as he opened his mouth to offer to help, the suitcase went flying and he decided that it was better to not alert the seething man to his presence.

"Fuck!" A booted foot lashed out and connected with the bench as hands made a mess of his already tousled hair.

Seth decided that the best thing he could do in this situation was to slink out of the room before he was noticed. It was best way to avoid having that rage change direction and be directed toward him instead. Would have worked too but when he turned to do just that, his foot loudly collided with his own suitcase. A grimace twisted his lips and he froze in place, watching the former wildcard of the Shield pivot and turn a burning blue glare on him.

Dean rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "This fucking day just gets better."

"Sorry, didn't know anyone else would be here this early." He ducked his head but he could feel the heat of that glare radiating against his skin.

"Didn't wanna be but they need me to tape something for the network." Those eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Why you so early?"

He felt his face heat, the blush spread over his cheeks. No way could he tell the real reason for his early arrival. It would be like purposely putting your foot on a landmine just to see what would happen. Lying about it was the safer course to take. "I-uh-tweaked my knee a bit when I was working out yesterday. Wanted to have the trainers take a look at it after I put my stuff in here."

Nothing but a thoughtful hmm followed that and Dean turned back toward the mess he created.

"So, uh, what were you looking for?"

A disgruntled huff left the eccentric man's mouth, shoulders stiffening defensively. "My fucking IPOD."

Seth nodded. Sometime's things never changed. For as long as he could remember, Dean always listened to music to get himself into the zone. It was absolutely the biggest part of his usual pre-show ritual. Not being able to would throw him off his game. "You want some help?"

"Nope, I'm good." The dirty blonde began sorting through the mess on the ground, rifling through the pockets of the discarded hoodies and jeans.

He was about to respond when his eyes caught sight of the telltale white ear bud wire peeking over the top of the other man's back pocket. "Uh, you check your pockets?"

"You should really put on your glasses." The retort was spat out viciously, "Guess you're too blind without them to see that's what I'm doing."

"I meant the pants you're wearing."

Dean paused but didn't turn to look at him. "What?"

"Your back pocket, there's a wire…" The words cut off in his throat as the current intercontinental champion reached into his back pocket and withdrew the device inside.

The silence was heavy. Dean studying the IPOD like he kept expecting it to disappear. Then he turned his head, looking over his shoulder. "So you just stood there, watching me go crazy when you knew it was there all along?"

"I didn't know-"

"Right, yeah, sure I believe you." Blue eyes rolled so hard that it looked like it hurt.

"It's always going to be like this, isn't it?" The words fell out of Seth's mouth before he could stop himself. But he really needed to know. So he pushed forward. "This gulf filled with distrust between us."

A mocking chuckle and raised eyebrow was thrown at him, "You think you deserve anything else from me after everything you've done?"

"I thought maybe we could move on, leave the past where it belongs and find our way back to being friends."

"Oh yeah? How's that work?" Dean questions harshly. "I just forget you stabbing me in the back and trying to end my career?"

"I…"

But he's cut off unapologetically, "And why the hell would I do that? Just because you've alluded to being regretful? That you've claimed to have changed?"

"I did change!"

"Right and I'm in line for sainthood." There was a scathing laugh. "Scumbag's don't change. Not really. They just get better at manipulating people into believing that they have."

"But-I thought-"

"What'd you think?" Dean's like a shark smelling blood and the smirk on his lips is cruel and vindictive. "That just because I'm playing nice on camera that it would be the glory days again when they were off?"

"Kinda hoping that it meant the end of us trying to destroy each other."

"Like I said, Scumbag's just get better at manipulating people into believing what they want them to." There's an almost bored looking shrug. "And unlike you Seth, I've never hid the fact that I'm a scumbag."

He's about to reply when the door opens and bangs into him.

"Oh shit, sorry man." Roman squeezes into the room, bag in tow. His eyes widen at the mess then drift between the two men standing there. "What'd I miss?"

Dean's still got that cruel smirk clinging to his lips, eyes daring him to admit the truth.

Instead he just shakes his head and forced a grin, "Nothing much. Ambrose lost his IPOD again."

"Ah," Roman snickers. "Hey, since the three of us are all together, we should go grab some lunch. Try to make this day a little less infamous."

Seth takes a deep breath and nods. "Sure, that sounds like a great idea."

"Sorry, got to go find out what the hell the network guys want me to tape now." Dean rolls his eyes but gives a wink. "Have to take a rain check on that Big Dog."


	75. Destruction

_June 2, 2014 12:15 AM_

Roman sat in the driver's seat of the rental car, ignoring the agony he felt, hands practically choking the wheel at the ten and two position. He hadn't intended to behind the wheel at all tonight and not just because of his back. It was supposed to be Seth's night to drive but of course, he had decided to stab them in the back and fled from the locker room in fear of his life before they could make it back there. That meant either Roman or Dean had to take over the daunting two and a half hour task after suffering at the hands of their former brother. Not something that he was exactly up to doing after two nights of hell.

Normally, in these circumstances, he'd have no issue with passing the chore off to Dean and settle contently into the passenger seat.

But not tonight.

Roman knew that it was better for everyone on the road if he was the one behind the wheel, aching back be damned. Because he really didn't want to die in a fiery wreck. Or end up in a state to state televised police pursuit. Either of those situations were entirely possible tonight. With Dean's current state of mind it was a forgone conclusion that something bad was probably going to happen.

The expression the calm before the storm perfectly summed up how it felt. The air had been crackling with an odd, electric tension ever since they entered the locker room and had only grown since then. It was only a matter of time before something or someone snapped. Namely Dean. He was wound so tight that he was practically vibrating with rage.

Roman wasn't the type to be scared easily by anything or anyone but right now, he was.

Dean was one of the select few that could lay claim to the honor.

Don't get him wrong, the Ohio native was a damn good brother and friend. Despite his less than ideal past, he had gotten to a place in his life were he was surprisingly well adjusted and laid back. Enjoying the success they achieved and finally letting his infamous guard down. He was loyal to those he cared about and had their back no matter what. Wasn't afraid to go to war on their behalf even if they knew it was one that they wouldn't win because all he cared about was protecting his family.

But when the dirty blonde was angered to the point of no return, it was like there was a switch inside of him that got flipped. Gone would be the goofy, fun loving man that he'd come to know. In his place was the dark, twisted, maniacal monster that thrived on pain and was capable of anything and everything that had ruled the majority of his life. No one was off limits, not even the people that the monster was closest with.

It was something that he'd only gotten brief glimpses of, thankfully. A few times in FCW, it had tried to make it's presence known. There were a couple of instances on the main roster were that side had briefly come out to stir things up. But it would forever live on in infamy on all those old videos he accidentally stumbled across on you tube when he was trying to find their recent promos. No matter how much they disturbed him, he found himself watching the blood-thirsty monster rage on his IPAD screen and hoping that that side never fully escaped the younger man..

He was grateful that he never had to actually be the one to step in and try to deal with it.

The few times it happened, the task usually fell to Seth since he had experience in diffusing what he'd referred to in hushed tones as a Moxley moment. But two-toned man was gone now and wouldn't be coming back to them any time soon. Which meant that he'd have to step up and face the deranged monster. Fight to keep his brother, his best friend, safe from his worst impulses. Try to force it back into whatever compartment in his mind that Dean kept it locked up in.

Roman just wasn't sure that he was really prepared to handle it but he had no choice.

Because there had been nothing but Moxley moments since they scrapped themselves off the canvas and made it back to the locker room.

As soon as the door clanged shut behind their beaten bodies, Dean was gone and in his place was Roman's worst nightmare come to life. The insane man had torn the locker room apart without a moments hesitation or thought to his own injuries. Putting his fists and boots through walls then destroying anything breakable in sight. Throwing the folding chairs as he ranted and raved.

Dean even tried to set fire to the few meager belonging that Seth must have accidentally left behind in his haste to get out of there before they found him. Thankfully, the dirty blonde had failed in that endeavor. Roman had never been so happy about strict flame retardant laws in his life. Of course, the commotion that destruction and yelling caused had been enough that someone had called security. But the guard's appearance didn't go over too well and when all was said and done, they were escorted from the building.

Not before Dean had bitten one of the guards and punched a couple of others though.

"Gonna cram a light tube so far down his fucking throat that it comes out of that fucking traitor asshole's asshole. After that, I gonna grab the biggest, sharpest shard of glass that I can find and cut him to ribbons. Then I'mma take my fork and jam it into his eye, rip the fucking thing right out of his mangled face." There was something in that fiendish tone that sounded almost joyful about the impending carnage.

He was really grateful that it wasn't directed toward him.

But it made a shudder run down his spine all the same.

"Not gonna kill him though." A dark, disturbing cackle-like chuckle that made goose-bumps break out on his skin reverberated in the close confines of the car. "Death's too good for the motherfucker. He don't deserve the escape. Gonna torture him, let his blood flow like a fucking river, make him scream, writhe and cry until he wishes that he'd never fucking been born. Bastard will be fucking praying for death by the time I'm finished with him."

Roman's stomach churned acidly at the unpleasant visuals that sadistic monologue gave him and he pulled the car over to the shoulder of the road so fast, he was positive that he'd left some rubber behind. He quickly undid his seat belt and wrenched open the door, twisting despite his protesting back into the air to collect himself. Not that it really helped. Bile was creeping up his throat. A shaky hand raked through his hair and he closed his eyes, focusing on calming his breathing and keeping his lunch down.

"You sick bro?" At least there was a little concern in the fiend's tone, meant that Dean wasn't completely gone yet. "Gonna puke?"

He was going to refute that, insist that he was fine but his stomach lurched hard and he doubled over, painting the cement.

"Shit!" There was sound of movement and a suddenly his hair was being pulled away from his face and held back so he wouldn't get puke in it. "I warned you about that chicken salad in catering, told you it smelled off! You should've listen to me."

Roman shook his head, wiping at his mouth. "It's not the chicken salad."

"Med reaction?" The frown is evident in his voice. "But I didn't see you take anything before we were so rudely kicked out of the arena."

He could tell him the truth. They were brothers to the bone and they always had been brutally honest with each other. It would be so easy to explain that those disturbingly vivid scenario's he was muttering about had been what made him sick to his stomach. Too bad there was a little voice inside of him, telling him that he'd better off not to go that route. That right now, even though he's showing concern, that the man beside him might not take it as good naturedly as he usually would.

The voice had enough of a point to give him pause.

Dean's trust was not an easy thing to gain. It took a lot of time and effort to make him see that you were someone he could rely on. Tonight, Seth had shattered it with a well placed steel chair shot then ground it to dust beneath his boots. There was a pretty good possibility that right now, he was wondering when Roman was going to do the same thing to him. Convinced that there was no way that he wouldn't decide to go the same route in the name of glory and gold.

Saying something like 'you need to cut it out cause you're freaking me out with all this gory talk' might not go over so well. Probably set him on edge even more. It'd be a lot better for both of them if he didn't decide to provoke the monster. He took a deep breath and twisted his aching body back behind the wheel of the car. "I didn't but with my back and ribs killing, the pain's just messing with me."

"Don't know why you just won't let me drive…"

Again, the truth would not be in his best interest. So it was a hell of a lot better to just go with a plausible half truth. "I just need something to keep my mind off it and I'll be fine."

The weight of the burning blue gaze could be felt. He turned his head slightly, just catching a brief look at the expression on the other man's face. Those eyes were narrowed, lips pursed and his head is tilted a little in thought, unruly dirty blonde curls pretty much obscuring one eyes. They had often joked around and called Dean the human lie detector but there was some measure of truth in it. He had an uncanny ability to see when someone wasn't being completely straight with them.

Of course, that asset had failed them miserably tonight.

So maybe it wouldn't be able to pick up the fact that he wasn't being honest.

"Fine," Dean answered with a resigned sigh, checking his phone. "But when we get to the hotel, you're taking something for it and icing that shit."

Roman let out a relieved breath and righted himself, settling back behind the wheel and closing the door. He'd take this little moment of normalcy, of having the real Dean beside him and not the monster. Not that he expected it to last long. "You won't get any arguments out of me."

"Better not." Dean was about to say more but his phone pinged, causing him to frown down at the device. Looking at it with a hardened gaze, his face darkened and he roughly shoved the object back into his pocket. "We've just been informed that we're not needed at Smackdown."

"Who sent you the message?"

"The devil's favorite lapdog."

There was a couple of ways to play this. Option number one: show how pissed off he was about it and risk Dean deciding to show up anyway. Or option two: make the younger man see how this could possibly be to their advantage.

When he really thought about it, there was really no choice. "Good, we can rest, get back to a hundred percent and come up with a game-plan for Monday."

"Game-plan?" Dean gave another one of those creepy cackles. "Don't need no game-plan. I'm gonna beat the hell out of him, pick his no good ass up then do it all over again until there ain't nothing left of him but a puddle of broken bones and blood."

Roman swallowed down another wave of nausea and decided that it would be in the best interest of his stomach if he let the topic drop for now. They really didn't have to discuss or worry about it again until Monday. Hopefully by then, cooler heads would prevail and Dean would be back to his usual safe, the monster safety shackled away again.


	76. Mindset

**_Author's Note: Can I just say that Raw has been fucking me up in the best possible way the last couple of weeks? This Seth/Dean storyline is everything I always hoped and wanted it to be. Hoping that it continues and doesn't get screwed up somehow._**

* * *

 _August 1, 2017_

Seth dropped his suitcases by the door and collapsed on his couch with a sigh as soon as he crossed the room. He was happy to be home but not for the usual reasons though. It wasn't just the chance to rest the myriad of aches and pains that being came with the territory of being a wrestler. Nor was it the fact that he could sleep in his own bed and not a sub-par hotel room one. Hell, it wasn't even the fact that he could cook for himself whatever he wanted as opposed to having to find something semi-healthy on the road. Wasn't the fact that he could curl up on his couch with his beloved pooch and binge watch any of the shows he had saved on his DVR.

No, his reason was far more complicated than that.

Dean Ambrose.

The last few weeks had really taken their toll on Seth. Mentally and emotionally. He was trying his hardest to prove to his former stable mate that he had changed. To get the stubborn man to see that he regretted the things he had done. But no matter how hard he tried or those brief moments when it looked like he succeeded, in the end, he always ended up back at square one.

He understood Ambrose's hesitation.

Couldn't blame him for doubting his sincerity.

Dean had been let down a lot in his life, used and discarded like he didn't matter both personally and professionally. As a result, he had severe paranoia and trust issues. It wasn't easy for him to allow someone to get past the walls he created. Almost every time he had, it had come back to bite him in the ass. Every person that screwed him over was another foot he added to that wall.

Nothing was worse though than the end of the Shield. He was betrayed by someone he trusted. A person he looked at as a brother, a friend, someone who was supposed to always have his back. Then he endured years of that same person using everything they knew about him against him. Tearing him down and trying to destroy him just so they wouldn't have to deal with him anymore.

Those walls grew about ten feet in height.

Became damn near impenetrable.

Now that Seth had experienced a similar situation, he could appreciate Dean's mindset a lot more than he had before. He understood a lot better now what it was like to have your world shattered. To go into situations every week not knowing what to expect. Have to watch your back constantly. Push forward through every obstacle thrown at you to get the vengeance you feel that you deserve.

That was why it was so important to get Dean to realize that he was sorry for what he'd done. Regretted ever putting money, gold and power above friendship and brotherhood. To show him that he wanted to make amends. He just didn't know what to do to earn the eccentric man's forgiveness or trust again. Actually, if he was being honest with himself, he didn't really know if it was possible.

Every one of Dean's acid-laced rejections crushed him. Each time the other man cited the betrayal was a knife in his heart. Sharp. Pointed. Hitting the mark every time and cutting so deep that it felt like he was choking.

An apology had burst from Seth without a second thought.

He said the words that he'd held back from saying for too long even though they needed to be said. Finally. It had felt so good to have that weight off his mind and shoulders. To finally acknowledge that the betrayal had affected him too. Repeated them so Dean would know that they were true, not just something said in the midst of a heated confrontation.

Dean just sneered at him and played that declaration off.

Seth had done what he'd done before. Offered the dirty blonde the opportunity to get a measure of revenge. But unlike their Shield summit, Dean didn't go for it. He tossed the chair out of the ring and said that it wouldn't fix thing, they'd never be even. That this would never be fixed.

They were thrown in a tag match, on the same side for the first time in a long time. Their chemistry was still there. They could read each other perfectly, still knew what the other was going to do. It had felt amazing. Caught in the heat of the moment, they had hugged but then Seth pushed for a little too much and held out his fist.

Dean had ignored that gesture, walking away.

Last night, after his failed attempt to save Seth, Dean had accused him of manipulating the situation. Said that he planned it when he challenged Sheamus and Cesaro. That he knew it wasn't a fight he could win on his own. How if he didn't come out and try to help that he'd be the one to look like a bad guy. Told him that if he pulled that again that Seth was on his own.

That was problem with calling yourself an architect, bragging about your ability to plan.

Even when you being genuine, people thought it was a carefully crafted plot.

But for the first time in a long time, Seth had nothing. No plan, scheme or plot. He was flying completely blind and desperately trying to grasp whatever small glimmers of hope presented themselves. Determined not to give up. To regain what he lost when he stupidly sold his soul. Get back to the Seth Rollins who had been proud of himself, who felt good about his career and who had the people he cared about by his side.

Yes, he could admit that it was selfish to expect Dean to forgive him. It was probably naïve of him to even consider the possibility. He didn't know if Dean could forget the dastardly things that had been done to him in the past and stand by his side. If he could ever really allow Seth to call him a friend or brother once more. Put his trust and life in the hands of the person who ground it to pieces time and time again.

As much as he wished he could, he couldn't make that decision.

Only Dean could decide if it was worth the risk.

Seth had a feeling that it wouldn't turn out like he hoped. That inevitably, he'd be the one to end up crushed this time. But he had to try. He owed it to the other man to do whatever he could to make up for his past betrayal. To give them both a chance to finally allow the scars of the past to heal.

All he could do was keep trying, make himself vulnerable.

No matter how many times he was rejected.


	77. Mindset 2

**Author's note: Damn you Raw! Do you have to fuck with my feels like this? Anyway...**

* * *

 _August 8, 2016_

Dean's lungs burned, muscles ached but he pushed forward, eyes locked on the view in front of him. The trek was familiar, almost comforting. His body knew what to do without his mind telling him. Running and jumping over the remaining obstacles trying to prevent him from reaching his destination. He reached the summit and looked out at the city in the distance, panting heavily.

This was why he'd picked Vegas. Not for the craziness or non-stop party atmosphere like most people assumed. For the desert and mountains. The escape and privacy they offered. How it provided the isolation he sometimes needed, especially when his emotions were threatening to overwhelm him.

The last few weeks had taken their toll on his psyche. Yeah, there was a part of him that wanted his friend back. Needed to have one of his brother's by his side again. But he remembered all too well what Seth had done. How he destroyed the dynamic they'd built with a care in the world just for the promise of a shiny future.

He'd been able to ignore the side of him that was begging to give into the younger man's attempts at reconciliation. Forced himself to be strong. To remind everyone that he had valid reasons to be cautious. That he wasn't wrong for protecting himself from eventually being stabbed in the back again.

That had been one of the most painful moments of his life. He pushed aside the heartache and waged a blood feud to try to make the traitor suffer as much as he was. It didn't work though. Every match just drove the knife deeper inside him. Each hurtful word piercing the armor he pretended to wear like daggers.

Seth hadn't just been content to emotionally hurt him. He tried to end him. Drove his head through cinderblocks. Never once showed any remorse for that. Was probably disappointed that it failed to get the job done.

It was all those things that reinforced his decision to play it smart. To listen to his head instead of his heart. Not believe every word that fell from the liar's lips just because he wanted to. Ignore all the sad, kicked puppy looks that were directed at him after he made his stance clear. Prove that there was no going back, the past would never be forgotten or forgiven.

Dean had been doing a good job at listening to his head. He forced himself not to go out there after he told Seth that he wouldn't help if he continued on the path of provoking Sheamus and Cesaro. That had been hard but it needed to be done. Of course, Seth tracked him down and was livid that he hadn't come to the rescue. He once again made his feelings on the matter of reconciling clear.

He had no idea how quickly everything would flip and fuck him up.

Which is exactly what was going on after last night.

It was his own fault. He knew better. But he'd been exhausted and weak, his defenses crumbling too rapidly to try to repair. Caught up in the moment, the crowd's excitement and the unwanted rush of emotions that were battling inside of him. Against every warning that his head was screaming at him, he'd stupidly given into his heart's demand and jutted his fist out after Seth showed up to help him.

Seth had rejected him. Flatly and coldly. Walked away from the offer without looking back. After weeks and weeks of whining about wanting to be forgiven. Showing signs that he may have actually changed and finally fucking apologizing for what he'd done. That had once again shattered the few fragile shards of trust that had been haphazardly glued back together.

It made no sense. For the last month, all the traitor did was persist in his quest for forgiveness. Declared his hope of moving on and making amends. Went on and on about how teaming together felt just like old times. Told the world that it was special, that it felt right.

But obviously, it was just a show for the cameras. A good act but an act none the less. Nothing more than an opportunity to cast himself in a good light with the fans and make Dean look like an asshole. One more way to rub salt into those old wounds that seemed incapable of truly healing. To make sure that Dean would never forget what Rollins was capable of.

It shouldn't bother him as much as it was. If anything, it was exactly what he'd anticipated happening. He should be chalking it up to Seth still being the same lying, manipulative bastard he'd exposed himself as three years ago. Pretending that Rollins latest ploy didn't have the desired effect. That he'd been expecting it all along and his moment of weakness was nothing more than a test.

He just couldn't do that right now. Not when it was still so fresh in his mind. Definitely not when his heart and mind were still waging war with each other. The whole situation was making him feel like he was drowning. Making him relive every rotten moment of the last three years on constant replay.

That was why he had to get out of his house. Needed to push himself to his physical breaking point. The war inside couldn't rage on if he was completely spent. Because he didn't know how much more he could endure before he broke. Before he was reduced to an empty shell of a person and could no longer trust anything around him.

Hopefully, he could pull himself together by Monday.

Dean could not show up on RAW and expose any signs of weakness. Not when every eye in the company, audience and watching on TV was on him. He needed to appear aloof and in control, like nothing had happened. Avoid the sellout as much as he could and focus on his job. Go out to the ring, kick whoever crossed his path wrong's ass and leave without anything he was feeling seeping through his walls.

He could do that.

After all, he had three years of practice under his belt. He just had to listen to his head and ignore that damn instinct that tried to get him to follow his heart. Remember that the old adage of once a snake, always a snake was true. That there was nothing to gain by forgiving or forgetting but pain and regret. Remind himself that he didn't owe anyone anything and that sometimes, you were better off alone.

With a last look at the city in the distance, he turned and resumed his journey, determination coursing through his veins. Conquering the obstacles on the way down the mountain would be a good way to prepare himself to conquer the obstacles that would surely be waiting for him on Monday. It wouldn't be easy. Not that it ever was. But that was what made it worth it in the end.


	78. Mindset 3

**Author's Note: Just a little try at getting into Seth's head after the RAW last night.**

 _August 8, 2017_

Seth was avoiding all social media and his own phone today. He had no desire to read what people were saying about the things that happened last night. No need to see their most likely angry and disappointed reactions. Not that he could blame them for being angry, confused or disappointed with how things played out. It was just something he couldn't deal with right now.

What happened left him feeling out of sorts himself, had him second guessing everything.

He refused the fist bump. The very thing that he'd been dying to receive for so long because it symbolized so much, forgiveness, acceptance and family. It hadn't been easy not to reciprocate. There was a huge part of him that was screaming to accept it, to place his fist alongside Dean's. Told him that once he did that, he would finally be reclaiming everything he lost.

But he wouldn't.

Not really.

Seth watched Dean struggle to force himself to offer the gesture. Saw the doubt and uncertainty that still lingered in his eyes. The dirty blonde's body language had screamed defeat. It wasn't a genuine or organic gesture, nothing had been fixed between them in the mind of Ambrose. He'd done it because he felt like he had to, like he had no other choice but to give everyone what they wanted.

That wasn't how he wanted this to happen. He needed a reconciliation between them to be because they both wanted it. Not because the fans were pushing for it or because Dean felt like he had to do it. If that happened then it would only lead to more problems down the road. There would still be that doubt and mistrust lingering in the mind of the dirty blonde.

It was hard to turn and walk away. To force himself not to look up at the Titantron or back at the other man. But he managed to do it. Got back to the locker room, packed up his stuff quickly and left before Dean got back there. Drove to the airport and got on a plane bound for home.

Those evasive maneuvers had given him time to think. To process everything. Come to grips with the fact that he might not succeed this time, that for once in his life he'd fail to accomplish a dream. Accept that maybe there was no way that to repair the damage that had been done. That his actions in the past had created permanent consequences that couldn't be erased.

If that was the case then it was better to stop trying. He wasn't made of stone. Every time Dean rejected his overtures, it hurt. Having his past misdeeds repeatedly thrown in his face was painful. Seeing the questioning side glances Dean gave him whenever they were close to one another cut deeply.

He knew refusing that fist bump would inevitably cause more problems. Dean would see it as yet another betrayal. Would probably use it as an excuse to come after him. That was fine, he had the right to be mad. To seek retribution for being left alone in the ring once again when he was reaching out for Seth.

They had spent so long being enemies. Expended so much energy trying to destroy each other. Gone to hell and back in an effort for revenge and the upper hand. Allowed their worst instincts to guide them. Let anger and hatred control their every interaction over the last few years that it wasn't easy to shift out of the mindset.

Maybe it was better to accept the fact that they couldn't go back. Forget the good times they shared, the brotherhood they built. Ignore the bond that still drew him in. Come to terms with the fact that the bridge had been burned far too many times to ever be rebuilt. Accept the fact that they were fated to be nothing more than bitter enemies in the grand scheme of things.

Ignore the part of him that desperately needed to make amends. Take the hand that his lousy choices dealt him and play it out until the bitter end. It would be the logical choice. The safest decision was always to follow the road that was known. To not do anything to veer off his current course and onto a more turbulent stretch of never ending pot-hole filled terrain.

Too bad that logic seemed to have gone out the window and flown completely out of his reach. That instead of using his brain in this situation, he was letting his heart drive him. Pushing him down the long bumpy, perilous path. Not letting him turn back to the safety and comfort of the easy road. Showing him how much better and stronger he would be for navigating his way through all the road blocks.

He wouldn't take part in another war with Dean. There wasn't one part of him that wanted that. But he wouldn't keep pushing for forgiveness and reconciliation. Those things were only ones that could be granted to him by the person he wronged. As much as he wished, he couldn't make the eccentric man change his mind if it was already made up.

Seth would just have to take things as they came and be prepared.

No matter what the outcome.


	79. Mindset 4

**_A.N: Oh Raw, you delivered what we'd all been wanting but I know this story is far from over!_**

* * *

 _August 14, 2017_

Seth should be on top of the world after what just happened. He'd gotten what he wanted, what he craved since he'd broken free from the authority and decided to reclaim who he once was. The very thing that he dreamed of since the superstar shakeup had brought Dean back to RAW. Euphoric joy should be overwhelming him, making him grin stupidly and act like a carefree child. Keyed up and giddy. Ready to take on the world now that he had his brother back by his side where he belonged.

While there was a part of him that felt like that, there was another part of him that couldn't help but question whether or not he should be preparing for the worst. There was lingering doubts in his mind to the validity of the reconciliation. A nagging little voice in the back of his mind telling him that it only happened due to having common enemies. That once Sheamus and Cesaro were dispatched of that Dean would revert to avoiding him. Put as much distance between them as he could and pretend that nothing ever happened because he couldn't really trust him especially after Seth admitted that he didn't trust himself.

He really hated that voice.

Trudging back to the room he claimed as his locker room for the night, he kept his head down and his eyes on the floor beneath his feet. Didn't want or need to see the suspicion in people's eyes. Know that they were wondering how long this alliance would last before he destroyed everything again. Speculate on when and how it would happen. Wonder what the next betrayal would do to Dean and his often fragile state of mind.

As he pushed through the door, he finally lifted his gaze off the floor and he froze.

Roman sat on the only folding chair in the closet-sized room. The same Roman who encouraged him to make this reunion happen. He informed him all the time that he loved both his little brothers, wanted to see them happy and to finally have them at peace with the past. But he'd also made it clear that he would not be getting involved with making that happen. That he was as neutral as Switzerland was in any battle and there were no sides to be taken.

Seth didn't quite believe that. He was painfully aware that his actions had somehow created a deeper, more intense brotherly bond between Roman and Dean. They always had each other's back and when they faced each other, they did it with respect and like men, never letting the contests come between them. While they hadn't interacted much on camera, off it they were still as tight as ever. Not even the months away from each other while Dean was on SmackDown had strained that bond.

There was no doubt in his mind that if Roman was forced to pick a side, he'd side with Dean. Not that he would blame the older man. The big dog been on the receiving end of a lot of ugly behavior from him in the past and he never apologized for it. Roman pretty much waved off any attempts and concentrated on the present. It was just the way Roman was, someone who didn't hold onto the past and moved forward easily.

But really, Seth did owe him an apology too.

He swallowed thickly and inclined his head in greeting, "Ro, what brings you by? Don't you have a showdown of monsters to get ready for?"

"Oh, I'm more than ready for that." His lips pulled up slightly in a grin but his eyes were fixed on him, studying every detail. "Just wanted to check in with you. See how you're feeling after everything."

"I'm happy man." Another quick swallow. "It's what I've been working toward."

"Yeah, mostly, when you're not sabotaging yourself."

He blinked, caught off guard by that comment. "What do you mean?"

"You almost screwed it up, especially with that bit about not trusting yourself. Saying that to someone who has trust issue, well it's not exactly a smart thing to do."

"Figured it might as well be full disclosure."

Roman accessed him carefully, "And what was that attacking him from behind bullshit?"

Seth sighed, shrugging. "I couldn't let him walk away. I knew if he did that any progress made was done. So I had to try to get him to stay and fight it out because then at least I'd know for sure that it meant something."

"That's an awfully risky move to make with Dean. I mean, it's good that you too have reconciled…"

"Did we really?" His voice shook on the question. "Do you honestly believe that Dean's doing this because he forgives me and has finally let go of the past? That he's honestly over it?"

The silence that followed those queries spoke volumes.

"If it had really changed, I don't think that he'd want to get away from me as soon as we got backstage. I also don't think that when I mentioned calling him to go over some strategy for Sunday, he would dismiss it as easily as he did."

"You know Dean, it takes time for him to let his walls down."

"I know that but I also know that nothing's really changed between us. He's just going along with this because it's the only shot we have against those two."

"That may be," An eyebrow arched, "But maybe you need to see it as a stepping stone."

Seth frowned, "What?"

"If Dean and you win those tag belts then you have nothing but time to prove to him that he can trust you. Show him that letting you back into his life wasn't a mistake."

"You make it sound so easy…"

"It's not, trust me." Roman heaved a heavy sigh. "Do you know what it was like after you left us? How much time and effort went into making sure that I didn't let him push me away and showing him that he could trust me? Trying to keep myself from being walled out?"

He didn't have an answer for any of that.

"It may have seemed like things were fine when we were in front of the cameras but off screen, I fought a months long battle to keep my brother. Not a minute of it was easy but it was worth it because I proved to him that our brotherhood, our friendship was important to me." A hardened gaze locked on his. "So I suggest you get over this little pity party you're having because you couldn't accomplish it in a few weeks and decide if it's worth it to keep trying beyond Sunday."

With that food for thought, Roman stood and made his way to the door but not before he delivered a quick slap upside his head. "Don't disappoint me little brother, I'd hate to have to give you a superman punch for choosing wrong."


	80. Piegate

**A.N: Ok so I blame this one completely on Dean, R-Truth and Roman. Poor Seth just gets dragged along for the ride.**

* * *

 _August 28, 2017 3:30 PM_

Seth sighed deeply, pushing through the heavy doors, eyes locking on his target already in the locker room. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders as he made his way to the other side. This had gone on long enough. It was time he did his best to sort out the situation and make things a little less uncomfortable. Cautiously, he cleared his throat to garner the attention of the man slouched on the bench with his eyes shut, obviously enjoying the rare moment of quiet.

Roman looked up at him and smiled genuinely, not upset about the disruption. "Hey man, what's up?"

"Can we talk?" His voice shook a little, sudden onslaught of nerves rattling it. "If your busy, it can wait,"

"Yeah, what's on your mind?" The eyes of the older man narrowed slightly. "Everything alright with you."

He wished it was that simple. But it wasn't. Not this time. "What I want to talk to you isn't about me."

Lips twisted down slightly in a frown, concerned and confused. "What's up then?"

Seth took a deep breath and decided to just go right into. "I'd have to blind not to notice that Dean seems to be giving you the silent treatment lately and hasn't been riding with you like he usually does. Now, I know that it's not really my business, that whatever's going on is between the two of you but I was always the peacemaker in the Shield and old habits die hard. Is there anything I can do to help?"

It was odd how Roman didn't seem mad about his intrusion into his private life, instead the look he gave him was almost fond and slightly amused. "I take it that Dean hasn't mentioned anything about this situation to you?"

"No," He sighed again, "And I didn't want to bring it up to him because while things are better between us, we're not at a place where he'd feel comfortable confiding in me yet."

"Ah." A nod expressed his understanding of their delicate relationship. "So I guess you didn't hear what he said in an interview at the two-k-eighteen event? Didn't see the video of that interview all over you tube and the so called wrestling news sites?"

He could feel the color drain from his face. "Wait…what? Dean talked to the dirt sheets about it?"

"Yeah, spilled all the dirty details. Well, his perspective on the situation." There was a slightly heavy pause before the big dog continued. "I felt like I had no choice but to defend myself against his accusations because I was getting bombarded with tweets from his angry fans so I responded with the facts on twitter."

"Oh god." Seth say wearily on the bench, wondering how all of this managed to escape his notice and had gotten to this point. "This is so much worse than I thought."

"I thought that would be the end of it but then R-Truth got involved…"

His eyes widened, "Why would he get involved?"

"He was there when it happened. It was actually all his fault but of course, he's denying my version of the events and Dean believes him."

He pinched the bride of his nose, head lowering. When he decided to step in, he didn't know exactly how bad this situation was. Now, he wished he just stayed out of it. "Have you tried to talk to Dean, straighten out the situation?"

"Yeah," Roman's voice shook slightly with something that sounded suspiciously like suppressed laughter. "But you know how Dean can be when he thinks he's right. He just insists that it's all lies and he smelled the scent of cinnamon on my breath."

Confusion swirled through Seth and he looked up at his older brother, "Huh?"

The Samoan laughed, shaking his head. "Don't tell me that you forgot how territorial Dean can get about his snacks. For a minute, I thought he was going to stab me with his fork."

"This whole debacle is about food?" He gaped at the other man, feeling an old, familiar pang of disbelief take root. "Are you being serious with me or just yanking my chain?"

"The last Popeye's apple pie actually." A chuckle escaped the bigger man. "He was lucky enough to be the one to order it but it wasn't in his bag when we got our orders and it led to this whole big mess. I mean, yeah it sucks but he really didn't have to get out of the car and Uber to the hotel."

Seth blinked, feeling like he'd stepped back to a time when the three of them had been a unit and daily disputes about conditioner, junkfood and music were a common occurrence. It was almost a relief to know that this problem wasn't anything too serious. Almost. There was still a part of him though that found it ridiculous that two grown men could be so immature about little things that didn't really matter. "So why don't you just get him a couple of pies and this whole thing will end?"

Roman looked sheepish, "I tried that the next week but as I was driving, they smelled really good so I ended up eating my apology."

"You ate them?" His eyes narrowed, studying the bigger man intently. "Like you ate the first one?"

"I did not eat the first one." He reaffirmed. "I maintain that R-truth did."

His head was starting to hurt from the absurdity of this. "But Dean thinks he smelled it on your breath, R-Truth is claiming innocence and you really had no part in Pie-gate other than eating the apology pies?"

"I mean, I maybe may have had a piece of said pie when it was offered to me…"

There it was, the admission he'd been waiting on since finding out what this whole debacle was about. They were finally getting somewhere. Hopefully he could figure out a resolution to this crazy, stupid mess before it turned into a blood feud. "A piece?"

Guilt flashed across the big brother of the Shield's face, "Ok maybe it was more than a piece."

Seth raised an eyebrow, "How much more?"

"Like half…"

"I KNEW IT!" The raspy shout startled them and they both looked over at the fuming dirty blonde who has somehow managed to sneak in and stay quiet enough not to alert them to his presence until now.

Seth swallowed thickly. This was not what he wanted to happen because now, he knew it was going to get even more blown out of proportion than it already had. "Calm down man and just hear him out. We can figure out a way to fix this."

Dean shook his head stubbornly, hand drumming against his collarbone. "I don't listen to pie thieves!"

"Dean-"

"NO!" The eccentric man snapped his head toward the Samoan. "I don't want to hear your excuses!"

Seth tried to grab his tag team partner but the man was a master of evading people when he wanted. So he couldn't stop him from storming out of the locker room. A sigh heaved from his lungs and he shook his head. "Roman?"

"Yeah?"

"Get your credit card ready, you're going to need to buy a lot of pies to make up for this one."


	81. Insecurity

_September 24, 2017_

Dean stared at the item being shown to him in confusion and wondered for the millionth time if Seth had really lost his mind or if he was on something. Those thoughts had only gotten louder and more persistent since they captured the titles at Summer Slam. The younger man had grown obsessed with the idea that they needed to present a more united front. That they were still being viewed as individuals as opposed to a true team. He argued that just having the belts wasn't enough to prove to everyone that they were on the same page.

Which explained why they were sitting here in the locker room, a couple of hours before No Mercy, having this really uncomfortable and unwanted moment.

Seth grinned at him, that all too familiar grin he got when he was convinced that he had done something good even though he hadn't. "Aren't they beautiful?"

The they in question were a pair of those hideous latex, body hugging tights that Seth seemed to really enjoy. Normally, that wouldn't be a big deal because Seth loved showing off his latest gear to anyone who would pay attention to him. But these tights were different. Horribly different. Instead of the usual crosshairs with Seth's initials, these had the all too familiar DA logo on them.

"They're…something all right." He blinked, hoping that the damn things would disappear before his eyes.

"I had to rush order these and I'm so glad that they came in today." A shaky sigh escaped his mouth. "I was worried that they wouldn't be here in time. That I'd have to wait until next week to give them to you."

"Uh-huh." Dean tilted his head, narrowed eyes fixated on the offending object in his tag team partners hands.

"I hope I got the size right." Seth bit his lip nervously, eyes making a quick sweep over the other man's torso. "That nonexistent waist of yours makes it difficult to gauge where you're at."

Dean's hands settled on his chest, fingers automatically drumming against the bone. This had to be a joke or he was being filmed for Swerved. Something. There was no way in hell that Seth could possibly think that this was going to be something he'd be on board with. That both of them looking like they were fifty shades rejects was a good idea. "Jig's up man, where's the camera's?"

"Huh?" The darker haired man look genuinely perplexed by that question. "What camera's?"

"You know," He gestured around the room with his hands, "the ones hidden in here to catch my reaction to this completely asinine idea."

Seth seemed to deflate at that, his smile fading and his shoulders slumping. "There's no camera's man. I just thought-"

"Seriously?" His eyes widened in disbelief. "Why does it bunch your panties so much that we don't have matching outfits, a unified theme or merch?"

"It…doesn't."

The was no conviction behind those words. Hell, it was easy to see that even Seth didn't believe them. Normally, because he hated this kind of shit, he'd leave it alone. Accept them even though he didn't buy them. But since they were trying to make a go of this team and repair their fragile friendship, he rolled his eyes and decided to press the issue.

"Bullshit." He called with a raised eyebrow. "Roman told me how you've been encouraging your followers on that tweet thing to ask the company about a shirt for us."

"I mean, why not?" The query was followed by a shrug that read as purely defensive. "We are the tag team champions. It's only logical that we have merch to commemorate it."

Dean could buy that excuse. Almost. "The unified theme?"

"I just think it would make more sense if we came out together instead of separately."

Again, he could almost believe that was the only reasoning behind it. Almost being the key word. "And the matching gear?"

"Show everyone that we're really a team."

"Everyone knows that we're a team, we have the tag team belts." He reiterated for what felt like the millionth time since they won the belts. "You don't see me trying to convince you to wrestle in jeans. I mean, not that you could. Yours are so tight that they'd split if you tried. So how come you need something else to prove it?"

Seth took a deep breath, set those horrible tights down on his lap and lowered his head, gaze fixed somewhere on the floor. "Because I'm not sure if we really are."

Dean frowned, cocking his head. This wasn't what he was expecting. "You don't know if we're really a team?"

"No."

"So, what?" He was trying to keep his temper in check. Not wanting to fly off the handle before he heard the reasoning behind that dumb ass statement. "This whole thing's been a joke? Or some scheme?"

Seth lifted his head, brown eyes locking on blue. "Not on my end."

The implication slammed into him and his mouth fell open. Wow. Just wow. Of all the reasons he could have come up with for the other man's obsession with them looking like a team, that wasn't one of them. "You think I'm playing you?"

"I don't know."

"You fucking with me right now?"

"No."

Dean shook his head and sat back, blown away. "I don't fucking believe this shit."

"I'm sorry." Seth ran his hands through his hair. "I just don't believe that you really want to be my partner or that you've really let the past go. I think the whole thing with the Miz and his glam squad then Sheamus and Cesaro kind of forced your hand."

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"It's always me who calls or texts you to say what's up, who tracks you down to go over the match or just hang for few." He bit his lip. "And honestly, most of the time, it feels like you don't want me around when camera's aren't pointed at us. Outside of RAW or a pay-per-view, there's no interaction that says we're friends. I mean, we don't even travel together."

Dean frowned at that and wondered if that was really the case, if Seth was just being insecure or if it was some combination of both. This was why he tended to steer clear of all this emotional shit. It was too hard to deal with. "So that's what this whole need for visible unity is all about? Why you went and ordered me a pair of those ridiculous tights?"

"Yeah, I guess figured if there was something to prove that we're a team onscreen that it would carry over off screen. I know that sounds stupid-"

"I'm trying to let it go and move forward. To see you for who you are now." He cut off the younger man, realizing that Seth needed to understand how it was. "But sometimes, all that shit in the past, it creeps up on me."

Seth licked his lips, nodding slightly. "So the question remains, what's it gonna take for you to get past it?"

Dean let out a breath that he'd been holding and shrugged helplessly, "Don't know for sure. Time, maybe. I mean, we weren't exactly friends when we decided to start the Shield and that changed eventually."

"True."

"So best thing we can do is just go with the flow and see what where that takes us." He nodded his head, "And I'll try to be a little more social when the camera's ain't rolling if you stop trying to force me to shimmy my ass into latex."

Seth laughed at that, a real laugh. "Deal but I'm not backing down on getting us some merch. We earned that."

"Nothing wrong with that, could always use a new shirt." Dean smirked back, holding out his fist.


	82. Call-out

**A.N: Oh Wencho, you know me too well. LOL although this didn't turn out exactly how I planned.**

* * *

 _September 25, 2017_

"Tell me that I'm not seeing this." Dean's demand was made through teeth that were clenched so tightly that it was a distinct possibility that they might break from the force, eyes never leaving the monitor in the locker room, one hand tightly grasping the bag of ice on his banged up shoulder in a death grip.

Seth blinked, eyes still locked on the image of the Miztourage standing over Roman with their fists extended in the Shield's signature pose. His own eyes narrowed, anger crackling in his veins at the sight. "Well, unless we're sharing a hallucination then yeah, you are."

"Good," A sinister looking smirk twisted his lips. "Then I have an excuse to beat them with a chair a hundred and seventy-nine times again." With that said, the dirty blonde dropped his bag of ice, shot to his feet and headed toward the door.

Seth quickly cut him off, stepping in front of the irate man. He grabbed him by the good shoulder and met burning blue eyes. "Wait, we can't go charging out there and attack them."

"Why?"

"Roman made it clear earlier that this is his fight, not ours. He'd get mad if we interfered even though they deserve it." His voice was calm and collected, years of dealing with his friend's hair trigger temper coming in handy in situations like this.

Dean's head cocked to the side, intensity pouring from his gaze as he freed himself from his tag partner's grasp. "Yeah, well, Miz and his bitch squad just made it our fight."

"Trust me, I feel the same way man."

Blue eyes rolled, "Then why the hell are you still standing in my way?"

It was a valid question. One that if the situation was reversed, he'd probably be asking too. Unfortunately, there was a good answer for that query. "Because we can't get involved unless Roman asks us to."

"In case you forgot," Dean huffed, "I don't take orders from anyone and I sure as hell don't wait to be invited to the party."

Seth sighed. "It's not an order but we need to respect his decision, no matter how much we don't want to or don't agree with it."

"So, I'm supposed to ignore what those pathetic-ass losers just did because Roman's on some solo quest to prove that it's his yard?" The other half of the tag team champions sneered derisively, eyebrow raised. "I don't think so."

The darker-haired man lunged to grab his tag team partner around the waist as the twitchy man made a bee-line around him. He hooked his fingers into the belt loops of his jeans and held on tight, which was a hell of a lot harder than it should be. "We can't get involved unless we're asked!"

"Watch me!" The former intercontinental champion retorted, struggling to break free of the hold with a well placed elbow that connected with his partner's ribs

Seth shook off the pain of the blow and grabbed him in a headlock, "You're staying here!"

"No, I'm not!" Dean grabbed at the long strands of hair and yanked hard, drawing a yell from his partner's mouth.

The locker room door opened and Roman came in, wincing from the attack that he just endured. He stopped in his tracks, watching with a perplexed expression as his two younger brothers battled with each other. "You know your partners now, right?"

They stopped their combat and looked at him in surprise then released their holds, stepping away from each other. Seth ran his hands through his hair, trying to straighten it and let out a breath. "How you feeling big dog?"

"I'll be fine."

Dean cracked his neck and rotated his bad shoulder, "When are we fucking those jack-asses up brother?"

"We're not." Roman said firmly. "I am."

"Oh come on!" The dirty blonde groaned. "What they did wasn't just about you! It was about the Shield!"

"He's got a point Rome." Seth piped in. "I get that you want to do this alone, really I do, but you're not the only one they took shots at. It would make sense…"

"No, I have a match with Miz for the strap next week." The Samoan stated firmly. "I'm going into it alone and winning it alone. You two worry about your own problems."

The dirty blonde jeered mockingly at that. "Problems? We don't got any problems."

Roman gave him a patronizing look, "You call going at Braun Strowman when you've still got Sheamus and Cesaro on your tails, no problems?"

"The reverse chipmunk and his stupid Mohawk loving twin aren't problems anymore unless they're looking to lose the rest of their teeth." Dean rolled his eyes, "As for the so called monster, Kingslayer over here is gonna finish what I started next week."

"Uh, yeah." Seth wasn't nearly as confident in that as Dean was but he'd never let the other men know that. He had to appear as if he was confident that he could beat the monster easily even if he wasn't so sure. "We've got our bases covered."

"Riiiiiight." Roman shook his head, scoffing at that. "Listen, I appreciate the offer but I can handle the Miz and his little cronies. You two just worry about handling your business."

Seth sighed, giving in. "Fine."

"Sure, yeah, handle our business."

Roman frowned slightly, his gaze locked on his less than predictable friend and trying to figure out if he meant it or not. But the dirty blonde had a hell of a poker face. "Cool, glad we understand each other. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go see the trainer and get some ice."

"You go do that." Dean flashed a dimpled grin and waited until the door shut behind Roman. He immediately looked at his tag team partner and shook his head. "Like hell I'm gonna stay outta it if those idiots keep running their mouths about the Shield."

"I know." Seth rolled his eyes. "We just got to figure out how to dispose of the Strowman obstacle then we're free to make sure that the Miz and his glam squad realize that they would never beat the Shield."

"Oh, so now you're on board with going against what Roman wants?" The eccentric man huffed, crossing his arms. "What happened to staying out of it?"

"Well, we're not really going to get involved."

Blue eyes showed their confusion, "We're not? But you just said-"

"We're not going to get involved unless they give us a reason to get involved." Seth clarified with a knowing look. "Understand?"

"Gotcha." Dean's smirk was all mischief and mayhem as he rolled his shoulders. "But if they do then we're free to fuck them up?"

"Believe that." He held out his fist.

The dirty blonde laughed before settling his fist against his tag team partners.


	83. Thanksgiving

**_A.N.: Happy Thanksgiving! Just a short little something that came to me._**

 _November 21, 2017_

Seth wondered what the hell he got himself into this time. It was a common problem he had whenever he agreed to something without knowing the details. In the past, it had always come back to bite him in the ass. Not just a nibble either but a full on chomp. Like that time that Dean, Roman and him had found out they were being called up to the main roster together and decided to do team bonding activities.

By now, you'd think he'd know better than to agree to something without knowing the details. But no, he had yet to learn his lesson. Maybe it was because he was the youngest of the trio. The stereotypical little brother who wanted to do everything with his big brothers. Or maybe, he just got caught up in the enthusiasm and excitement that they displayed when they came up with their insane ideas.

Whatever it was, it still reeled in him five years later.

Ever since the Shield reunited, they had been spending a lot of time together again, making up for lost time. Enjoying their reclaimed friendship and brotherhood. So, of course, it had sounded like a great idea when the three members decided to do an extra day on the road and have a pre-Thanksgiving dinner before heading off for the rest of the week to spend with their families, friends or in Ambrose's case, go home to Vegas and get crazy. He just figured that they'd find a restaurant that was doing a holiday week menu, make some reservations and enjoy their feast. After that, they'd probably hit up a liquor store then head back to the hotel and spend the rest of the night reminiscing, drinking and laughing like crazy.

Sounded perfect. Nothing better than a low-key, chill time with your brothers. A rare moment to kick back, relax and relieve the past. To guess about the future. Discuss the highs and lows they went through in their careers and vent to someone who could relate.

What he hadn't been expecting was to get back from the gym and find a note saying they had gone to the local Wal-Mart get supplies. Both of them had a love for tacky, awful, gaudy holiday decorations so he figured it was what they were doing. He really hadn't been anticipating Dean and Roman being loaded down with bags of uncooked food when they returned. There were bags of frozen vegetables, a box of stuffing mix and a decent sized turkey. While the hotel room they had relocated to after RAW did have a small kitchenette in it, including a four burner electric cook top, there was no oven.

So he was at a loss for how they planned to cook the fourteen pound bird.

Not to mention that he was pretty damn sure that neither man had even attempted to cook a turkey before.

Before he could point out those flaws with whatever their plan was, they came back in holding a large box and a several gallon container of oil. With furrowed brows, he stared dubiously at the box that was placed on the table. Indoor Turkey Fryer. Huh. He hadn't even known that those were a thing but leave it to Wal-Mart to sell them.

Every instinct in his body screamed at him that this was an epically bad idea. There was no way in hell that it was safe to fry a turkey in a hotel room, especially since the three of them weren't exactly known as culinary masters. Then there was the fact that frying a turkey made it so damn unhealthy. It would take a lot of extra gym time to burn off the added calories from that.

Dean smirked at his obvious reaction, "Relax, they're completely safe and not as bad for you as you're thinking."

"Yeah, I kind of doubt that." He rolled his eyes but they focused back onto the object of his distress as soon as they stopped. "I mean, I've heard horror stories…"

"Cause those people didn't know what they were doing." Before he could point out that neither did they, the dirty blonde piped up, his dimples on full display from his less than reassuring smile as he pulled out a small fire extinguisher from one of the bags. "We'll follow the directions and shit but we have this, just in case."

"Plus, they cook a turkey a lot quicker than an oven does." Roman threw in with a grin, patting the box like it was the most precious thing ever invented. "I'm calling dibs on this now. It's going home with me when we're done."

Seth was far from certain about this plan. In fact, there was a little voice in his mind taunting him and telling him that certain disaster was immanent. But he swallowed down his concerns and nodded slightly. "Who knows, maybe this will be a new Shield tradition."

* * *

Roman pulled the last of the windows open to air out the smoke filled room. The fire extinguisher lay spent on an area next to the slightly burned rug. A self-depreciate chuckle left his mouth, hand rubbing at his neck sheepishly, a nasty looking bruise marring his forehead. "Well, at least it wasn't the turkey fryer. I made that thing my bitch."

Seth glared at the older man, "But it was your bright idea to let Dean cook."

"Hey!" The dirty blonde threw in incredulously, "I was doing fine until the end."

The end as it were was when his tag team partner forgot to turn off the power for the spot where the finished instant potato's were sitting as they sat down to enjoy their meal. By the time they were done their surprisingly good feast, the contents of the pan had scorched to a crisp and the pan itself flames engulfing it. Dean had jumped up from his seat, grabbed the flaming pot, made it exactly two steps then promptly dropped it on the rug when his hand had enough of being burnt. The big dog, in his haste to grab the fire extinguisher, tripped over his own two feet and hit his head off the chair.

Thankfully, once Seth recovered from his frozen state, he managed to get the fire extinguisher and save them a visit from the fire department. But as he sat at the table, chest heaving and his heart still hammering out of control, he couldn't contain the laughter from escaping his mouth.

"Uh," Roman looked at him warily. "You ok Uce?"

He tried to respond. To explain that somehow, this whole crazy situation just fit with them. That all their best intentions or fun ideas always turned out in chaos or disaster but couldn't stop chuckling.

"I think he's lost it." Dean's eyes narrowed in consideration then shrugged it off. "Or the fumes got him all fucked up."


	84. Bonding

**A.N: So this is just a little pre-main roster idea that came to me while I was writing Thanksgiving and couldn't resist.**

* * *

 _October 20, 2012_

Seth groaned weakly, head pounding painfully. His hair was plastered to the side of his face by something sticky that he was ninety percent sure was blood. Brown eyes opened and focused blearily at his surroundings. Twisted, gnarled trees rose up into the dark, starless sky and seemed to merge with it. Beneath his body was the cold, hard floor of dirt and rocks and bits of branches that caused his back a world of agony. He struggled to sit up, pain wracking every nerve in his aching body and grimaced as he took in the sight of his ripped clothing that was smeared with dirt and plastered to his skin in spots by that same sticky residue that was on his face.

Letting out a breath, he hissed as a sharp pain dug into his ribs from the simple action.

His mind struggled to put this situation into some type of context but it was too hazy at the moment to make a connection. All he could really remember was Joey Mercury sitting him, Roman and Dean down to talk, informing them that they were being called up together which was a little surprising but still exciting news. He told them that the best thing they could do was stick together. The three of them agreed because they knew this was it, their shot to finally show the world what they could do and that there might be some people in the locker room who wouldn't be too happy about it. From this point on, they were a package deal and if you had a problem with one of them then you had a problem with all three of them.

They had decided the best way to accomplish this was to spend some time together prior to their debut and do some team bonding activities. That way, they'd get to know each other better than they did. Well, he knew Ambrose pretty well from working with him so much but wasn't as familiar with Reigns. This arrangement gave them an opportunity to find out how they worked as a unit over the next few weeks. Plus, it sounded like something that might be fun.

But he couldn't imagine agreeing to any team bonding that ended up with him in the damn woods, alone, in a crumpled heap on the earth's floor.

How the hell did this happen?

Where were his new team mates?

He tried to get to his feet, wincing in agony before deciding to give himself a few more minutes to rest. That way, he could also come up with a plan to get back home. Concoct an explanation for the office of why he was possibly concussed, scabbed and bruised up when he reported for work down in NXT in a couple of days. Hopefully, the other two would play along with whatever cover story he came up to.

That was when he remembered what event preceded his waking up in the woods.

 _"I'm telling you, Big Foot exists." Dean insisted, chewing on several French fries all at once with one hand and waving the other hand excitedly. "It's been documented…"_

 _Roman rolled his eyes and cut off the energetic dirty blonde unapologetically. "Dee, let it go man. Everyone knows that all those sighting are nothing but garbage."_

 _"Yeah," Seth chimed in once he swallowed his burger. "All that so called footage was debunked years ago as an elaborate hoax."_

 _Blue eyes gave a hard roll, "Of course the government is going to do everything they can and pay off some scientists to say that it was bogus. They don't want people knowing that the paranormal stuff is real. It's just like the whole area 51 cover-up."_

 _"Oh god." The Samoan's groan made it clear that he had extensive experience in dealing with these rants._

 _"So, let me guess, your pick for our team bonding activity is to watch Big Foot documentaries to get us to change our minds?" He snickered but figured at the very least, it would be entertaining._

 _"Nope," A smirk twisted Dean's lips. "We're gonna go Big Foot hunting."_

Seth groaned, wondering why the hell he ever agreed to the ridiculous idea. From the moment that it left the eccentric man's mouth, it was guaranteed that nothing good was going to come out of this expedition. This incident was proof. In the future, he was going to instate a veto rule. Any risky, ridiculous or just plain bad idea can be instantly shot down by one of them for the good of the team.

But at least now, he knew why he was in the woods.

Didn't explain why he was alone though.

They wouldn't have ditched him, right?

His hand scrambled to his pocket and as it closed around the object, he hoped it was still functional. Pulling it free from his pocket, he hit the home button and let out a breath he didn't realize that he'd been holding as the display lit up. In that moment he was incredibly grateful for his decision to buy a way too expensive but supposedly indestructible phone case. Unfortunately, it did nothing to add reception to the phone because there were no bars to be found on the screen. There went the notion of calling his partners and getting some help.

Seth sighed, angrily jabbing at the screen. A video started playing. It was hard to tell what the hell he was seeing at first because it was so dark. Just when he was about to give up and close it in order to save his battery, the beam of his phone's flashlight illuminated the image on screen. The three of them stalking around the woods, obviously in the midst of their Big Foot hunt.

 _"This is a waste of time." His own voice sounded bored but resigned. "We're not going to find anything except the typical wildlife that lives out here."_

 _Roman turned toward him, eyes wide and mouth pinched in a frown. "Man, don't be wishing shit like that on us. I'm not looking to have a run in with a bear or a damn snake."_

 _"Shhh…" Dean intoned quietly. "If it hears us, it will stay hidden."_

 _"That would be a travesty." He tossed out, making no effort to keep the sarcasm from infusing every word._

 _Suddenly a guttural, hair raising growl sounded on the screen. There were startled yells, a couple of tandem exclamations of "Oh shit." The image disappeared but the sounds of rapid footfalls over snapping twigs and those hideous, terrifying growls continued as he'd obviously shoved his phone back into his pocket with cutting off the video before fleeing._

He heard his own startled yelp then a rush of sounds as he obviously fell.

After that, the video stopped.

Okay, so now his current predicament made a hell of a lot more sense. The three of them took off in a panic and must have gotten separated or decided to split up. In his haste to not to become food for whatever the hell made that sound, he obviously didn't notice that he took a path that led to an incline and must have tripped over something, rolling down the path. Now that he had perspective on the situation, he was really glad that he managed not to break anything or become a snack for some wild animal. He was relatively unharmed and had apparently escaped from whatever they stumbled across.

He just needed to get to his feet and find the others.

That was easier said than done.

After expanding a lot of energy, effort and using the flashlight on his phone to help him find a spot for leverage, he finally managed the task. A small cry of victory escaped his mouth when he was upright. He cautiously rolled his neck, shoulders and tested his limbs. Other than his ribs feeling like they could possibly be cracked or severely bruised, everything else was in working order. Slowly, he started the heading back the way he came, the evidence of his fall leading the way.

As he walked, he made a vow.

This was the last crazy moment that the three of them would ever have.


	85. Christmas

**_A.N: So this is really late but it turned into something a lot longer and completely different than what it was originally supposed to be._**

* * *

 _December 20, 2012_

Dean had never Christmas shopped before. To be honest, he had never really celebrated the holiday at all as far as he could remember. Maybe their had been merry Christmas revelry before he could remember but he severely doubted it. It didn't take a psychologist to tell him how strange that was. He'd knew that it was but it was the truth and had become just part of the normal to him like a lot of other things that most people would find odd.

He'd grown up poor and lived in subsidized public housing with a drug addicted mom who really only worried about getting her next fix and a so-called father who spent more time in jail than he ever did with his family. His parents divorced. Dad continued his revolving door tour of local jails and his mother continued to not give a shit about anything but drugs. That less than ideal parental situation meant that there was never any desire or money to have a real birthday or holiday like everyone else. A couple of times, mostly when he was between four and six years old, there had been the crappy donated presents that came from whatever charity his mother managed to stumble her way into and ask for assistance but most of the time, there was nothing.

Once he was on his own his own, the circumstances didn't really change. In all the years after escaping from the hell that was the projects where his mother made her home, he never had any extra money to have a real Christmas. Every dollar he made went toward keeping a roof over his head, food in his stomach and gas in his scrap heap of a car so he could get to his next booking. It was just the hand that he'd been dealt and it had never really bothered him. He had become accustomed to it just being another, normal in his life day a long time ago. Never felt like he was missing out on something just because he didn't have the best possible experiences with the holiday to look back on.

This year was different though.

His finances had improved considerably since he signed his contact with the company but even more so now that he was on the main roster. Yeah, he still had to the usual expenses that came with being on the road but everything was split three ways. It was nice not to have to worry about whether or not your card would be declined every time you ran it through a machine. A relief not to have to pick up shifts tending bar or waiting tables even though you were sore, tired and looked like hell just to make sure that you could make rent that month. There was a pleasant feeling when you looked at your bank account and you weren't close to over-drafting it if you bought a pack of gum.

Plus, he finally had people in his life that he wanted to show his appreciation for. Seth and Roman had become not only his best friends but his brothers. They helped each other navigate this road they chose to travel, pushing each other to continue on when things got rough and cheering each other on when things were going good. There was no one looking out for number one even though they all knew that the Shield was merely a stepping stone for each of them obtaining singles success. That was why he felt it was important to let them know that he valued having them in his crazy life.

It was Roman who had originally come up with the idea of hosting a dinner and gift swap at his place once his girlfriend and daughter's travel plans were set. They would leave for Pensacola on the twentieth and he was planning to make the drive the next day, after he recovered from Uce-mas as he was calling it. Seth, who wasn't flying out until the night after the get together, had groaned at the title but agreed with the principal. Then they asked Dean what he thought about it and he had agreed. It sounded like a great way to celebrate the holiday for the first time and he wasn't flying out to while away the holiday in Las Vegas until the twenty-third.

Sounded perfect right?

There was just one problem with the whole scenario. Shopping was way out of his comfort zone. Sure, he did it when he had no other choice. Like when he really needed clothes or food but shopping for others was a task that he had never even attempted before. The idea of trying to figure out what to get someone that they'd like and wouldn't think was completely ridiculous made him even more twitchy than normal.

Dean had an easier time agreeing to take part in a death match than knowing how to holiday shop. He didn't want to get anything that might offend them or anything that would get them all emotional and sappy. Did he get them something practical? Something stupid that would make them laugh? Go the easy route and get some of those oh so convenient gift cards?

His grip on the steering wheel tightened and his eyes narrowed at the structure in front of him in undisguised disgust.

The local mall.

To the people who liked to shop it was an oasis but to him, it was hell. Especially this time of the year. There was nothing he hated more than an insane amount of crappy, tacky, stupidly expensive chain stores all crammed into one gaudily decorated building that polluted the air with horrible, cheesy music. A house of horrors full of overpriced, over-commercialized junk that for some reason that escaped him, people thought that they couldn't live without. Even this early on a weekday morning it was filled to the brim with annoyed, hostile, loud people scurrying to get their family and friends the latest gadgets.

He was not looking forward to this.

But it had to be done.

Taking a deep breath, he opened his car door and climbed out. This was the only time of the year that he could tolerate living in Florida because while it was still warm in the days, it wasn't humid and sticky. It wasn't enough to keep him there though. As soon as he was sure that things were going to keep going up, he was out of that damn state. Off to someplace where the weather wasn't a humid, swampy mess that made you feel like you were going to sweat to death.

A deep, heavy dread filled every step he took that brought him closer to the front doors of the pit of hell. A cold, clammy sweat broke out on his skin. He really hoped that he didn't get recognized. Normally, he was cool with it and knew that it came with the territory of being a wrestler. Actually, he kind of enjoyed it as long as he wasn't eating or doing something important. But this task had his anxiety level sky-rocketed and he needed to make it through it without prolonging the torturous experience.

He reeled in one more heart steadying gulp of air then he plunged through the automatic doors into the pit of hell. His feet skidded to a stop. It's the Most wonderful time of the year blared through the speakers and assaulted his ears. The first sight to greet him was Santa-land and the big, garishly decorated sign that told you a picture would cost you twenty dollars for a photo with the mall's version of the figurehead. An internal groan reverberated though him and he knew right then that he was in for the horrible experience that he had been dreading since he agreed to this plan.

* * *

Dean finally pulled up to Reigns home, about twenty-five minutes after he was supposed to arrive. It wasn't his fault though. Traffic had been a hell of a lot worse than what he anticipated, it seemed like everyone that owned a car was on the damn roads tonight. But now that he was there, he kind of wished it took him longer. A lot longer or maybe that his car had broken down and kept him from making it at all.

Behind the cliché white picket fence was the ornately and catalogue worthy decorated home of his friend. There was a poinsettia drenched wreath taking up the majority of the red front door. Bright white lights hung in icicles from the overhang and more framed the windows, which had candlesticks light within them. A multitude of reindeer and elves were placed strategically on fake snow. A giant Santa snow globe complete with swirling snow finished the sprawling festive tapestry in the front yard.

He stared at the scene in horrified fascination for several minutes before he was able to force himself to look away. This was way out of his league. It was as picturesque and wholesome as a fucking scene from some cheesy ass fucking feel good holiday movie that he'd avoid like the plague. Agreeing to this whole thing was really beginning to look like a bad idea. There was no way in hell that he wouldn't fuck this up and cause this to end in disaster.

But he had promised to be there.

Couldn't back out now.

Forcing himself to leave the confines of his car, he made his way up the walkway and did his best to ignore the decorations that threatened to overwhelm him. Taking a minute before he rang the bell, he gave himself a pep talk. He could do this. It was just a night of hanging out with Roman and Seth, like he'd done so many times. Nothing to get himself worked up about.

Roman opened the door to this his house, a huge smile on his face. The Samoan was wearing an ugly Christmas sweater and had a crooked Santa hat perched merrily on top of his head. He engulfed him in a way too enthusiastic hug before stepping back and clapping him heartily on the shoulder, his grin somehow stretching wider. "Uce!"

"Start the festivities early big dog?" Dean studied him carefully then raised an eyebrow as he entered the excessively decorated living room. There was no surface that wasn't adorned with some festive piece of paraphernalia, including a ball of greenery that was either holly or mistletoe hanging from the light and crappy Christmas carol's filling the air. His stomach churned acidly because he didn't belong here in the middle of all this grandly festive atmosphere.

"I may or may not have cracked a beer or three while we were waiting on you." A wink followed that. "But if I did, I deserve it after dropping my girls off the airport. Place was insane already."

He grunted in agreement, understanding that feeling entirely as he stopped in front of the centerpiece of the room. The tree was massive and took up the entire area where it was positioned and under the tree were a few brightly wrapped presents. Obviously those were for their gift exchange since Ro's daughter was still a firm believer in the fact that the so called jolly fat man brought you presents. Damn. He had no clue how to wrap presents so his basic plastic bags were really going to look like shit next to them.

The sound of a throat being cleared to his left diverted his gaze from the sight in front of him and he raised an eyebrow in silent question as he put his poor attempt at presents under the tree. "What's up?"

Seth was perched on the couch, thankfully dressed in his usual attire of skinny jeans and band t-shirt, studying him carefully. "You alright man?"

"Uh," He gave himself a mental shake as he straightened up. "Yeah, fine."

"You sure?" The youngest of the trio wrinkled his nose. "Cause it kind of looked like you were about to throw up."

He cringed, wondering when the hell he'd gotten so transparent. He used to be good at covering how he was feeling, made a career off it. There was no reason to let them know why he was nauseous. "Ate at a food court earlier, think my stomach wasn't a fan."

"Ah." Roman once again clapped him heavily on the shoulder. "Want a drink?"

"I doubt that would help his stomach." Seth chuckled, "Probably make it worse."

"Bite your tongue Rollins." Dean mockingly intoned, dramatically placing his hand to his heart and opening his blue eyes as wide as they could. "Whiskey cures all."

* * *

After a couple of drinks and dinner of grilled steak and a ton of side dishes, Roman gave them an excited grin as he grabbed his drink and stood. "I think it's time to see what Santa brought us!"

Seth groaned, obviously not on the same level of holiday spirit that their brother was, eyeing the older man skeptically. "Ro, do I need to cut you off? You must be drunk already if you forgot that Atheist's don't believe in any of these made up figures."

"Stop being a Grinch." The Samoan retaliated with a chuckle. "Tis the season to get the stick out of your ass and enjoy this amazing time of the year!"

Dean didn't join in the usual banter. A few drinks had quelled his nerves but now that the moment of truth had arrived, they flared back to life and smothered the pleasant buzz that he'd previously had. He didn't want to see the disappointment written on their faces when they opened his gifts. Hated the idea of hearing placating words. Maybe he should use the excuse that he was sick and made an escape before this all went to hell.

"Deano? You with us man?" Seth's question penetrated his thoughts and he found himself looking into brown eyes full of concern. "Going to come up open some presents with us?"

"You're not looking so good Uce." The big brother and pseudo mother hen of the group inquired, peering at him thoughtfully. "Maybe whiskey doesn't help an upset stomach after all."

It really was the perfect opening. All he had to do was open his mouth, agree with that and he'd be off the hook. Get to leave and put this ill-advised, failed attempt at normalcy behind him. But the words wouldn't come. He deflated even further as he realized that he didn't want to lie to them. "I can't do this."

Roman looked at him, confusion etched on his face. "You can't do what?"

"Christmas."

Seth blinked at him, obviously not understanding what he meant by that. "Huh?"

"I've never celebrated it before." He hung his head, not wanting to see them as he unwillingly revealed a little of his past. "I thought that I could do this but I hate all the music and decorations. I suck at shopping and I didn't even know how to wrap the damn gifts I finally did manage to find."

"You never had a Christmas before? How is that possible?" The Samoan man's voice was soft with an odd combination of disbelief and sadness. He sucked in a sharp breath, face suddenly contrite for some reason. "Is it a religious thing? Are you Jewish? If you are, I'm down to celebrate Hanukkah too."

Dean felt worse at hearing the earnestness in the older man's tone. Those were logical assumptions to make but he really didn't feel like going into details about his less than ideal past. It would probably snuff out the rest of their holiday enjoyment. "No, it's nothing like that."

"What is it then?"

"Forget it." A heavy sigh escaped his mouth. "I'm just gonna take off, I've ruined your night enough."

"Hey, you're not ruining anything." Seth easily blocked his attempt at running away, stepping right in front of him. " And you can't just cut and run after dropping something like that on us. We're here and we're listening. Just explain it man."

Talking about his past was something Dean hated to do. He was far more content to live in the here and now. But since his anxiety attack over all this holiday shit had affected them, they deserved to know. There was no way that he was going to bare his ugly past out there for them though. Thankfully, years of being in front of crowds and cameras meant that he could play this off and act like it didn't bother him. "It ain't really a big deal guys. Holidays and birthdays just weren't ever a thing in my house."

Roman looked shell-shocked. "They weren't a thing? How could they not be a thing?"

"They just weren't."

Seth nodded quickly, stepping in. "Well that explains why you looked like you were going to be sick when you walked into the place that Christmas threw up on and were greeted by the world's biggest, goofiest elf."

"Hey!" The Samoan cried indignantly, "My baby girl loves her winter wonderland."

"Not really the point right now big dog." The Iowa native rolled his eyes. "The fact is that it's normal to feel overwhelmed by all this. Hell, I feel the same way and I'm used to stuff like this."

"It's like that anytime you experience something for the first time." Roman added, "I had that feeling the first time I ever wrestled in front of people. My nerves were all the place, I was convinced that the match was terrible and I couldn't do this. But it got easier every time I stepped in the ring after that."

"Exactly." Seth clapped him on the shoulder. "This one, yeah, there might be botches but next year and the year after all, it'll be much better."

Dean didn't really believe what they were saying was true. It was them just doing what they always did when it came to him and trying to overlook his weirdness. He appreciated that they tried when no one else ever had. For that, he owed it to them to try to get through the rest of this and put his insecurities and anxiety aside. "Ok, let's do this."


End file.
